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THE 



SEASONS, 



BY 



S T 



HIS LIFE, BY MR. MURDOCH, 

AN 

ESSAY ON THE PLAN AND MANNER OF THE POEM, 
BY J. AIKEN, M. D. 

AND 

A COMPLETE GLOSSARY AND INDEX. 



EMBELLISHED WITH ENGRAVINGS. 



LONDON: 

PRINTED BY C. WHITT1NGIIAM, 

Dean Street, Fetter Lane, 

FOR G. AND J. ROBINSON; R. BALDWIN; F. AND C. RIVINGTON; W. J. AND J 
RICHARDSON; VERNOR AND HOOD ; T.PAYNE; W.LOWNDES; G.WILKTE; OGILVY 
AND SON; J.SCATCHERD; J.WALKER; CLAW; J.NUNN LONGMAN AND REES . 
CADELL AND DAVIS; CARPENTER AND CO.; T. HURST; BLACK AND PARRY; AND' 
R. CROSBY. 



1802. 



m%. 



CONTENTS. 



Life of the Author . v 

Aiken's Essay xxxvii 

Spring 1 

Summer 51 

Autumn 127 

Winter 185 

Hymn 233 

Index and Glossary 237 



AN 



LIFE AND WRITINGS 



MR. J. THOMSON. 



IT is commonly said, that the life of a good 
writer is best read in his works; which can scarce 
fail to receive a peculiar tincture from his tem- 
per, manners, and habits; the distinguishing cha- 
racter of his mind, his ruling passion, at least, 
will there appear undisguised. But however just 
this observation may be, and although we might 
safely rest Mr. Thomson's fame, as a good man, 
as well as a man of genius, on this sole footing; 
yet the desire which the Public always shew of 
being more particularly acquainted with the his- 
tory of an eminent author, ought not to be disap- 

b 



THE LIFE OF 



pointed; as it proceeds not from mere curiosity, 
but chiefly from affection and gratitude to those 
by whom they have been entertained and in- 
structed. 

To give some account of a deceased friend is 
often a piece of justice likewise, which ought 
not to be refused to his memory; to prevent or 
efface the impertinent fictions which officious 
Biographers are so apt to collect and propagate. 
And we may add, that the circumstances of an 
author's life will sometimes throw the best light 
upon his writings; instances whereof we shall 
meet with in the following pages. 

Mr. Thomson was born at Ednam, in the shire 
of Roxburgh, on the 11th of September, in the 
year 1700. His father, minister of that place, 
was but little known beyond the narrow circle of 
his co-presbyters, and to a few gentlemen in the 
neighbourhood; but highly respected by them, 
for his piety, and his diligence in the pastoral 
duty : as appeared afterwards, in their kind offices 
to his widow and orphan family. 

The Reverend Messrs. Riccarton and Gusthart, 
particularly, took a most affectionate and friendly 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. 



part in all their concerns. The former, a man 
of uncommon penetration and good taste, had 
very early discovered, through the rudeness of 
young Thomson's puerile essays, a fund of genius 
well deserving culture and encouragement. He 
undertook, therefore, with the father's approba- 
tion, the chief direction of his studies, furnished 
him with the proper books, corrected his per- 
formances; and was daily rewarded with the 
pleasure of seeing his labour so happily em- 
ployed. 

The other reverend gentleman, Mr. Gusthart, 
who is still living*, one of the ministers of Edin- 
burgh, and senior of the Chapel Royal, was no 
less serviceable to Mrs. Thomson in the manage- 
ment of her little affairs; which, after the decease 
of her husband, burdened as she was with a fa- 
mily of nine children, required the prudent 
counsels and assistance of that faithful and gene- 
rous friend. 

Sir William Bennet likewise, well known for 
his gay humour and ready poetical wit, was 
highly delighted with our young poet, and used 

* 1762. 



viii THE LIFE OF 



to invite him to pass the summer vacation at his 
country seat: a scene of life which Mr. Thomson 
always remembered with particular pleasure. But 
what he wrote during that time, either to entertain 
Sir William and Mr. Riccarton, or for his own 
amusement, he destroyed every new year's day ; 
committing his little pieces to the flames, ifi their 
due order; and crowning the solemnity with a 
copy of verses, in which were humorously recited 
the several grounds of their condemnation. 

After the usual course of school education, un- 
der an able master at Jedburgh, Mr. Thomson 
was sent to the University of Edinburgh. But 
in the second year of his admission, his studies 
were for some time interrupted by the death of 
his father; who was carried off so suddenly, that 
it was not possible for Mr. Thomson, with all the 
diligence he could use, to receive his last blessing. 
This affected him to an uncommon degree; and 
his relations still remember some extraordinary 
instances of his grief and filial duty on that oc- 
casion, 

Mrs. Thomson, whose maiden name was Hume, 
and who was co-heiress of a small estate in the 
country, did not sink under this misfortune. She 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. ix 

consulted her friend Mr. Gusthart: and having, 
by his advice, mortgaged her moiety of the farm, 
repaired with her family to Edinburgh; where 
she lived in a decent, frugal manner, till her fa- 
vourite son had not only finished his academical 
course, but was even distinguished and patronised 
as a man of genius. She was, herself, a person 
of uncommon natural endowments; possessed of 
every social and domestic virtue; with an imagi- 
nation, for vivacity and warmth, scarce inferior 
to her son's, and which raised her devotional ex- 
ercises to a pitch bordering on enthusiasm. 

But whatever advantage Mr. Thomson might 
derive from the complexion of his parent, it is 
certain he owed much to a religious education ; 
and that his early acquaintance with the sacred 
writings, contributed greatly to that sublime, by 
which his works will be for ever distinguished. 
In his first pieces, the Seasons, we see him at once 
assume the majestic freedom of an Eastern writer; 
seizing the grand images as they rise, clothing 
them in his own expressive language, and pre- 
serving, throughout, the grace, the variety, and 
the dignity, which belong to a just composition ; 
unhurt by the stiffness of formal method. 



THE LIFE OF 



About this time, the study of poetry was be- 
come general in Scotland, the best English authors 
being universally read, and imitations of them at- 
tempted. Addison had lately displayed the beau- 
ties of Milton's immortal work; and his remarks 
on it, together with Mr. Pope's celebrated Essay, 
had opened the way to an acquaintance with the 
best poets and critics. 

But the most learned critic is not always the 
best judge of poetry; taste being a gift of nature, 
the want of which, Aristotle and Bossu cannot 
supply; nor even the study of the best originals, 
when the reader's faculties are not tuned in a cer- 
tain consonance to those of the poet : and this 
happened to be the case with certain learned 
gentlemen, into whose hands a few of Mr. Thom- 
son's first essays had fallen. Some inaccuracies 
of style, and those luxuriances which a young 
writer can hardly avoid, lay open to their cavils 
and censure; so far indeed they might be com- 
petent judges: but the fire and enthusiasm of the 
poet had entirely escaped their notice. Mr, 
Thomson, however, conscious of his own strength, 
was not discouraged by this treatment; especially 
as he had some friends on whose judgment he 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. xi 

could better rely, and who thought very differ- 
ently of his performances. Only, from that 
time, he began to turn his views towards London; 
where works of genius may always expect a can- 
did reception and due encouragement; and an 
accident soon after entirely determined him to 
try his fortune there. 

The divinity chair at Edinburgh was then filled 
by the reverend and learned Mr. Hamilton; a 
gentleman universally respected and beloved; 
and who had particularly endeared himself to the 
young divines under his care, by his kind offices, 
his candour and affability. Our author had at- 
tended his lectures for about a year, when there 
was prescribed to him, for the subject of an exer- 
cise, a psalm, in which the power and majesty of 
God are celebrated. Of this psalm he gave a pa- 
raphrase and illustration, as the nature of the ex- 
ercise required; but in a style so highly poetical 
as surprised the whole audience. Mr. Hamilton, 
as his custom was, complimented the orator upon 
his performance, and pointed out to the students 
the most masterly striking parts of it; but at last, 
turning to Mr. Thomson, he told him, smiling, 
that if he thought of being useful in the ministry, 
he must keep a stricter rein upon his imagination, 



xii THE LIFE OF 



and express himself in language more intelligible 
to an ordinary congregation. 

This gave Mr. Thomson to understand, that his 
expectations from the study of theology might be 
very precarious; even though the Church had 
been more his free choice than probably it was. 
So that having, soon after, received some encou- 
ragement from a lady of quality, a friend of his 
mother's, then in London, he quickly prepared 
himself for his journey. And although this en- 
couragement ended in nothing beneficial, it serv- 
ed for the present as a good pretext, to cover the 
imprudence of committing himself to the wide 
world, unfriended and unpatronised, and with the 
slender stock of money he was then possessed of. 

But his merit did not long lie concealed. 
Mr. Forbes, afterwards Lord President of the Ses- 
sion, then attending the service of Parliament, 
having seen a specimen of Mr. Thomson's poetry 
in Scotland, received him very kindly, and re- 
commended him to some of his iends ; particu- 
larly to Mr. Aikman, who lived in great intimacy 
with many persons of distinguished rank and 
worth. This gentleman, from a connoisseur in 
painting, was become a professed painter; and 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. 



his taste being no less just and delicate in the 
kindred art of descriptive poetry, than in his own, 
no wonder that he soon conceived a friendship 
for our author. What warm return he met with, 
and how Mr. Thomson was affected by his 
friend's premature death, appears in the copy of 
verses which he wrote on that occasion. 

In the mean time, our author's reception, 
wherever he was introduced, emboldened him 
to risque the publication of his Winter : in which, 
as himself was a mere novice in such matters, he 
was kindly assisted by Mr. Mallet, then private 
tutor to his Grace the Duke of Montrose, and his 
brother the Lord George Graham, so well known 
afterwards as an able and gallant sea-officer. To 
Mr. Mallet he likewise owed his first acquaint- 
ance with several of the wits of that time; an 
exact information of their characters, personal 
and poetical, and how they stood affected to each 
other. 

The poem of Winter, published in March 
1726% was no sooner read than universally ad- 
mired; those only excepted who had not been 
used to feel, or to look for, any thing in poetry, 
beyond a point of satirical or epigrammatic wit, 



THE LIFE OF 



a smart antithesis richly trimmed with rhyme, or 
the softness of an elegiac complaint. To such 
his manly classical spirit could not readily recom- 
mend itself; till, after a more attentive perusal, 
they had got the better of their prejudices, and 
either acquired or affected a truer taste. A few 
others stood aloof, merely because they had long 
before fixed the articles of their poetical creed, 
and resigned themselves to an absolute despair of 
ever seeing any thing new and original. These 
were somewhat mortified to find their notions 
disturbed by the appearance of a poet, who seem- 
ed to owe nothing but to nature and his own ge- 
nius. But, in a short time, the applause became 
unanimous; every one wondering how so many 
pictures, and pictures so familiar, should have 
moved them but faintly to what they felt in his 
descriptions. His digressions too, the overflow- 
ings of a tender, benevolent heart, charmed the 
reader no less; leaving him in doubt, whether he 
should more admire the Poet, or love the Man. " 

From that time, Mr. Thomson's acquaintance 
was courted by all men of taste; and several ladies 
of high rank and distinction became his declared 
patronesses: the Countess of Hertford, Miss Dre- 
lincourt, afterwards Viscountess Primrose, Mrs. 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. 



Stanley, and others. But the chief happiness 
which his Winter procured him was, that it 
brought him acquainted with Dr. Rundle, after- 
wards Lord Bishop of Deny; who, upon convers- 
ing with Mr. Thomson, and finding in him qua- 
lities greater still, and of more value, than those 
of a poet, received him into his intimate confi- 
dence and friendship; promoted his character 
every where; introduced him to his great friend 
the Lord Chancellor Talbot; and, some years 
after, when the eldest son of that nobleman was 
to make his tour of travelling, recommended Mr. 
Thomson as a proper companion for him. His 
affection and gratitude to Dr. Rundle, and his in- 
dignation at the treatment that worthy prelate had 
met with, are finely expressed in his poem to the 
memory of Lord Talbot. The true cause of that 
undeserved treatment has been secreted from the 
Public, as well as the dark manoeuvres that were 
employed : but Mr. Thomson, who had access to 
the best information, places it to the account of 

Slanderous zeal, and politics infirm, 



Jealous of worth. - 



Meanwhile our poet's chief care had been, in 
return for the public favour, to finish the plan 
which their wishes laid out for him ; and the ex- 



THE LIFE OF 



pectations which his Winter had raised, were fully 
satisfied by the successive publication of the other 
Seasons: of Summer in the year 1727; of Spring, 
in the beginning of the following year ; and of 
Autumn, in a quarto edition of his works, printed 
in 1730. 

In that edition, the Seasons are placed in their 
natural order: and crowned with that inimitable 
Hymn, in which we view them in their beautiful 
succession, as one whole, the immediate effect of 
infinite Power and Goodness. In imitation of the 
Hebrew Bard, all nature is called forth to do 
homage to the Creator, and the reader is left en- 
raptured in silent adoration and praise. 

Besides these, and his tragedy of Sophonisba, 
written and acted with applause, in the year 1729, 
Mr. Thomson had, in 1727, published his poem 
to the Memory of Sir Isaac Newton, then lately 
deceased; containing a deserved encomium of 
that incomparable man, with an account of his 
chiefdiscoveries; sublimely poetical; and yet so 
just, that an ingenious foreigner, the Count Alga- 
rotti, takes a line of it for the text of his philoso- 
phical dialogues, II Neutonianismo per le dame: 
this was in part owing to the assistance he had of 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. xvii 

his friend Mr. Gray, a gentleman well versed in 
the Newtonian Philosophy, who, on that occasion, 
gave him a very exact, though general, abstract 
of its principles. 

That same year, the resentment of our mer- 
chants, for the interruption of their trade by the 
Spaniards in America, running very high, Mr. 
Thomson zealously took part in it; and wrote his 
poem Britannia, to rouse the nation to revenge. 
And although this piece is the less read that its 
subject was but accidental and temporary, the 
spirited generous sentiments that enrich it, can 
never be out of season : they will at least remain 
a monument of that love of his country, that de- 
votion to the Public, which he is ever inculcating 
as the perfection of virtue, and which none ever 
felt more pure, or more intense, than himself. 

Our author's poetical studies were now to be 
interrupted, or rather improved, by his attendance 
on the Honourable Mr. Charles Talbot in his tra- 
vels. A delightful task indeed ! endowed as that 
young nobleman was by nature, and accomplish- 
ed by the care and example of the best of fathers, 
in whatever could adorn humanity: graceful of 



xviii THE LIFE OF 



person, elegant in manners and address, pious, 
humane, generous; with an exquisite taste in all 
the finer arts. 

With this amiable companion and friend, Mr. 
Thomson visited most of the courts and capital 
cities of Europe; and returned with his views 
greatly enlarged ; not of exterior nature only, and 
the works of art, but of human life and manners, 
of the constitution and policy of the several states, 
their connexions, and their religious institutions. 
How particular and judicious his observations 
were, we see in his poem of Liberty, begun soon 
after his return to England. We see, at the same 
time, to what a high pitch his love of his country 
was raised, by the comparisons he had all along 
been making of our happy well-poised govern- 
ment with those of other nations. To inspire his 
fellow-subjects with the like sentiments, and to 
shew them by what means the precious freedom 
we enjoy may be preserved, and how it may be 
abused or lost, he employed two years of his life 
in composing that noble work : upon which, con- 
scious of the importance and dignity of the sub- 
ject, he valued himself more than upon all bis 
other writings. 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. xix 



While Mr. Thomson was writing the First Part 
of Liberty, he received a severe shock, by the 
death of his noble friend and fellow-traveller ; 
which was soon followed by another that was 
severer still, and of more general concern; the 
death of Lord Talbot himself; which Mr. Thom- 
son so pathetically and so justly laments in the 
poem dedicated to his memory. In him the na- 
tion saw itself deprived of an uncorrupted patriot, 
the faithful guardian of their rights, on whose 
wisdom and integrity they had founded their 
hopes of relief from many tedious vexations: and 
Mr, Thomson, besides his share in the general 
mourning, had to bear all the affliction which a 
heart like his could feel, for the person whom, of 
all mankind, he most revered and loved. At the 
same time, he found himself, from an easy com- 
petency, reduced to a state of precarious depen- 
dence, in which he passed the remainder of his 
life ; excepting only the two last years of it, during 
which he enjoyed the place of Surveyor-General 
of the Leeward Islands, procured for him by the 
generous friendship of my Lord Lyttelton, 

Immediately upon his return to England with 
Mr. Talbot, the Chancellor had made him his 
Secretary of Briefs; a place of little attendance, 



xx THE LIFE OF 



suiting his retired indolent way of life, and equal 
to all his wants. This place fell with his patron; 
and although the noble Lord who succeeded to 
Lord Talbot in office, kept it vacant for some 
time, probably till Mr. Thomson should apply for 
it, he was so dispirited, and so listless to every 
concern of that kind, that he never took one step 
in the affair : a neglect which his best friends 
greatly blamed in him. 

Yet could not his genius be depressed, or his 
temper hurt, by this reverse of fortune. He re- 
sumed, with time, his usual cheerfulness, and 
never abated one article in his way of living; 
which, though simple, was genial and elegant. 
The profits arising from his works were not in- 
considerable : his tragedy of Agamemnon, acted 
in 1738, yielded a good sum; Mr. Millar was 
always at hand, to answer, or even to prevent his 
demands; and he had a friend or two besides, 
whose hearts, he knew, were not contracted by 
the ample fortunes they had acquired; who 
would, of themselves, interpose, if they saw any 
occasion for it. 

But his chief dependence, during this long in- 
terval, was on the protection and bounty of his 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. xxi 

Royal Highness Frederic Prince of Wales; 
who, upon the recommendation of Lord Lyttel- 
ton, then his chief favourite, settled on him a 
handsome allowance. And afterwards, when he 
was introduced to his Royal Highness, that excel- 
lent prince, who truly was what Mr. Thomson 
paints him, the friend of mankind and of merits 
received him very graciously, and ever after ho- 
noured him with many marks of particular fa- 
vour and confidence. A circumstance, which 
does equal honour to the patron and the poet, 
ought not here to be omitted ; that my Lord Lyt- 
telton's recommendation came altogether unsoli- 
cited, and long before Mr. Thomson was perso- 
nally known to him. 

It happened, however, that the favour of his 
Royal Highness was in one instance of some pre- 
judice to our author; in the refusal of a licence 
for his tragedy of Edward and Eleonora, which 
he had prepared for the stage in the year 1739. 
The reader may see that this play contains not a 
line which could justly give offence; but the 
ministry, still sore from certain pasquinades, 
which had lately produced the stage act ; and as 
little satisfied with some part of the prince's poli- 



THE LIFE OF 



tical conduct, as he was with their management 
of the public affairs, would not risque the repre- 
sentation of a piece written under his eye, and, 
they might probably think, by his command. 

This refusal drew after it another; and in a 
way which, as it is related, was rather ludicrous. 
Mr. Paterson, a companion of Mr. Thomson, af- 
terwards his deputy and then his successor in the 
general-surveyorship, used to write out fair copies 
for his friend, when such were wanted for the 
press or for the stage. This gentleman likewise 
courted the tragic muse, and had taken for his 
subject the story of Arminius the German hero. 
But his play, guiltless as it was, being presented 
for a licence, no sooner had the censor cast his 
eyes on the hand- writing in which he had seen 
Edward and Eleonora, than he cried out, M Away 
with it !" and the author's profits were reduced 
to what his bookseller could afford for a tragedy 
in distress. 

Mr. Thomson's next dramatic performance 
was the Masque of Alfred ; written, jointly with 
Mr. Mallet, by command of the Prince of Wales, 
for the entertainment of His Royal Highness's. 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. xxiii 

court, at his summer residence. This piece, with 
some alterations, and the music new, has been 
since brought upon the stage by Mr. Mallet. 
It was acted at Clifden, in the year 1740, on the 
birth-day of her Royal Highness the Princess 
Augusta. 

In the year 1745, hisTancred and Sigismunda, 
taken from the novel in Gil Bias, was performed 
with applause ; and from the deep romantic dis- 
tress of the lovers, continues to draw crowded 
houses. The success of this piece was indeed in- 
sured from the first by Mr. Garrick and Mrs. 
Cibber, who appeared in the principal charac- 
ters; which they heightened and adorned with all 
the magic of their never- failing art. 

He had, in the mean time, been finishing his 
Castle of Indolence, in two Cantos. It was, at 
first, little more than a few detached stanzas, in 
the way of raillery on himself, and on some of 
his friends, who would reproach him with indo- 
lence ; while he thought them, at least, as indo- 
lent as himself. But he saw very soon, that the 
subject deserved to be treated more seriously, and 
in a form fitted to convey one of the most im- 
portant moral lessons. 



xxiv THE LIFE OF 



The stanza which he uses in this work is that 
of Spenser, borrowed from the Italian poets; in 
which he thought rhymes had their proper place, 
and were even graceful : the compass of the stan- 
za admitting an agreeable variety of final sounds: 
while the sense of the poet is not cramped or cut 
short, nor yet too much dilated ; as must often 
happen, when it is parcelled out into rhymed 
couplets; the usual measure indeed of our elegy 
and satire-, but which always weakens the higher 
poetry, and, to a true ear, will sometimes give it 
an air of the burlesque. 

This was the last piece Mr. Thomson himself 
published; his tragedy of Coriolanus being only 
prepared for the theatre, when a fatal accident 
robbed the world of one of the best men, and best 
poets, that lived in it. 

He had always been a timorous horseman; and 
more so, in a road where numbers of giddy or 
unskilful riders are continually passing : so that, 
when the weather did not invite him to go by 
water, he would commonly walk the distance be- 
tween London and Richmond, with any acquaint- 
ance that offered; with whom he might chat and 
rest himself, or perhaps dine, by the way. One 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. xxv 

summer evening, being alone, in his walk from 
town to Hammersmith, he had overheated him- 
self, and, in that condition, imprudently took a 
boat to carry him to Kew ; apprehending no bad 
consequence from the chill air on the river, which 
his walk to his house, at the upper end of Kew- 
lane, had always hitherto prevented. But now 
the cold had so seized him, that next day he 
found himself in a high fever, so much the more 
to be dreaded that he was of a full habit. This, 
however, by the use of proper medicines, was 
removed, so that he was thought to be out of 
danger : till the fine weather having tempted him 
to expose himself once more to the evening dews, 
his fever returned with violence, and with such 
symptoms as left no hopes of a cure. Two days 
had passed before his relapse was known in town ; 
at last, Mr. Mitchell and Mr. Reid, with Dr. Arm- 
strong, being informed of it, posted out at midnight 
to his assistance: but, alas! came only to endure a 
sight of all others the most shocking to nature, 
the last agonies of their beloved friend. This 
lamented death happened on the 27th day of 
August, 1748. 

His testamentary executors were, the Lord 
Lyttelton, whose care of our poet's fortune and 



THE LIFE OF 



fame ceased not with his life; and Mr. Mitchell, 
a gentleman equally noted for the truth and con- 
stancy of his private friendships, and for his ad- 
dress and spirit as a public minister. By their 
united interest, the orphan play of Coriolanus 
was brought on the stage to the best advantage : 
from the profits of which, and the sale of manu- 
scripts, and other effects, all demands were duly 
satisfied, and a handsome sum remitted to his sis- 
ters. My Lord Lyttelton's prologue to this piece 
was admired as one of the best that had ever been 
written: the best spoken it certainly was. The 
sympathizing audience saw that then, indeed, Mr. 
Quin was no actor ; that the tears he shed were 
those of real friendship and grief. 

Mr. Thomson's remains were deposited in the 
church of Richmond, under a plain stone, with- 
out any inscription : nor did his brother poets at 
all exert themselves on the occasion, as they had 
lately done for one who had been the terror of 
poets all his life-time. This silence furnished 
matter to one of his friends for an excellent satiri- 
cal epigram, which we are sorry we cannot give the 
reader. Only one gentleman, Mr. Collins, who 
had lived some time at Richmond, but forsook it 
when Mr. Thomson died, wrote an ode to his me- 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. 



mory. This, for the dirge-like melancholy it 
breathes, and the warmth of affection that seems 
to have dictated it, we shall subjoin to the present 
account. 

Our author himself hints, somewhere in his 
works, that his exterior was not the most promis- 
ing; his make being rather robust than graceful : 
though it is known that in his youth he had been 
thought handsome. His worst appearance was, 
when you saw him walking alone, in a thought- 
ful mood : but let a friend accost him, and enter 
into conversation, he would instantly brighten into 
a most amiable aspect, his features no longer the 
same, and his eye darting a peculiar animated 
fire. The case was much alike in company; 
where, if it was mixed, or very numerous, he 
made but an indifferent figure: but with a few" 
select friends, he was open, sprightly, and enter- 
taining. His wit flowed freely, but pertinently, 
and at due intervals, leaving room for every one 
to contribute his share. Such was his extreme 
sensibility, so perfect the harmony of his organs 
with the sentiments of his mind, that his looks 
always announced, and half expressed, what he 
was about to say; and his voice corresponded ex- 
actly to the manner and degree in which he was 



THE LIFE OF 



affected. This sensibility had one inconvenience 
attending it, that it rendered him the very worst 
reader of good poetry : a sonnet, or a copy of 
tame verses, he could manage pretty well; or even 
improve them in the reading: but a passage of 
Virgil, Milton, or Shakspeare, would sometimes 
quite oppress him, that you could hear little else 
than some ill-articulated sounds, rising as from the 
bottom of his breast. 

Hehad improved his taste upon the best originals, 
ancient and modern ; but could not bear to write 
what was not strictly his own, what had not more 
immediately struck his imagination, or touched his 
heart: so that he is not in the least concerned in that 
question about the merit or demerit of imitators. 
What he borrows from the ancients, he gives us in 
an avowed faithful paraphrase or translation ; as 
we see in a few passages taken from Virgil, and 
in that beautiful picture from Pliny the elder, 
where the course, and gradual increase, of the 
Nile, are figured by the stages of man's life. 

The autumn was his favourite season for poeti- 
cal composition, and the deep silence of the 
night, the time he commonly chose for such 
studies ; so that he would often be heard walking 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. xxix 

in his library till near morning, humming over, 
in his way, what he was to correct and write out 
next day. 

The amusements of his leisure hours were civil 
and natural history, voyages, and the relations of 
travellers, the most authentic he could procure: 
and, had his situation favoured it, he would cer- 
tainly have excelled in ^gardening, agriculture, 
and every rural improvement and exercise. Al- 
though he performed on no instrument, he was 
passionately fond of music, and would sometimes 
listen a full hour at his window to the nightingales 
in Richmond gardens. While abroad, he had 
been greatly delighted with the regular Italian 
drama, such as Metastasio writes; as it is there 
heightened by the charms of the best voices and 
instruments ; and looked upon our theatrical en- 
tertainments as, in one respect, naked and imper- 
fect, when compared with the ancient, or with 
those of Italy; wishing sometimes that a chorus, 
at least, and a better recitative, could be intro- 
duced. 

Nor was his taste less exquisite in the arts of 
painting, sculpture, and architecture. In his tra- 
vels he had seen all the most celebrated monu- 



THE LIFE OF 



ments of antiquity, and the best productions of 
modern art; and studied them so minutely, and 
with so true a judgment, that in some of his de- 
scriptions, in the poem of Liberty, we have the 
master-pieces there mentioned placed in a stronger 
light perhaps than if we saw them with our 
eyes; at least more justly delineated than in any 
other account extant : so superior is a natural 
taste of the grand and beautiful, to the traditional 
lessons of a common virtuoso. His collection of 
prints, and some drawings from the antique, are 
now in the possession of his friend Mr. Gray, of 
Richmond Hill. 

As for his more distinguishing qualities of mind 
and heart, they are better represented in his writ- 
ings than they can'be by the pen of any biogra- 
pher. There, his love of mankind, of his coun- 
try and friends, his devotion to the Supreme Be- 
ing, founded on the most elevated and just con- 
ceptions of his operations and providence, shine 
out in every page. So unbounded was his ten- 
derness of heart, that it took in even the brute 
creation: judge what it must have been towards 
his own species. He is not indeed known, 
through his whole life, to have given any person 
one moment's pain, by his writings or otherwise. 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. 



He took no part in the poetical squabbles which 
happened in his time ; and was respected and left 
undisturbed by both sides. He would even refuse 
to take offence when he justly might; by inter- 
rupting any personal story that was brought him, 
with some jest, or some humorous apology for the 
offender. Nor was he ever seen ruffled or dis- 
composed, but when he read or heard of some 
flagrant instance of injustice, oppression, or cruel- 
ty; then, indeed, the strongest marks of horror 
and indignation were visible in his countenance. 

These amiable virtues, this divine temper of 
mind, did not fail of their due reward. His 
friends loved him with enthusiastic ardour, and 
lamented his untimely fate in the manner that is 
still fresh in every one's memory; the best and 
greatest men of his time honoured him with their 
friendship and protection; the applause of the 
public attended every appearance he made; the 
actors, of whom the more eminent were his 
friends and admirers, grudging no pains lo do 
justice to his tragedies. At present, indeed, if we 
except Tancred, they are seldom called for; the 
simplicity of his plots, and the models he worked 
after, not suiting the reigning taste, nor the impa- 
tience of an English theatre. They niay here- 



THE LIFE OF MR. THOMSON. 



after come to be in vogue : but we hazard no 
comment or conjecture upon them, or upon any 
part of Mr. Thomson's works; neither need they 
any defence or apology, after the reception they 
have had at home, and in the foreign languages 
into which they have been translated. We shall 
only say, that, to judge from the imitations of his 
manner, which have been following him close, 
from the very first publication of Winter, he 
seems to have fixed no inconsiderable aera of the 
English poetry. 



ON THE 



DEATH OF MR. THOMSON, 
BY MR. COLLINS. 



[The scene of the following stanzas is supposed to lie on the Thames, 
near Richmond. ~\ 



N yonder grave a Druid lies, 
Where slowly winds the stealing wave ! 
The year's best sweet's shall duteous rise 
To deck its Poet's sylvan grave ! 

In yon deep bed of whispering reeds 

His airy harp* shall now be laid, 
That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds, 

May love thro' life the soothing shade. 

* The harp of jEolus, of which see a description in the Castle 
of Indolence. 



xxxiv ODE ON THE 



Then maids and youths shall linger here, 
And while its sounds at distance swell, 

Shall sadly seem in Pity's ear, 

To hear the Woodland Pilgrim's knell. 

Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore 
When Thames in summer wreaths is drest, 

And oft suspend the dashing oar 
To bid his gentle spirit rest! 

And oft as Ease and Health retire 

To breezy lawn, or forest deep, 
The friend shall view yon whitening spire*, 

And 'mid the varied landscape weep. 

But Thou, who own'st that earthy bed, 
Ah! what will every dirge avail? 

Or tears, which Love and Pity shed, 
That mourn beneath the gliding sail! 

Yet lives there one, whose heedless eye 

Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimm'ring near ? 

With him, sweet bard, may Fancy die, 
And Joy desert the blooming year. 

* Richmond Church. 



DEATH OF MR. THOMSON. xxxv 

But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide 
No sedge-crown'd Sisters now attend, 

Now waft me from the green hill's side 
Whose cold turf hides the buried friend! 

And see the fairy valleys fade, 

Dun Night has veil'd the solemn view I 

Yet once again, dear parted shade, 
Meek Nature's Child, again adieu! 

The genial meads assign'd to bless 
Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom, 

Their hinds and shepherd-girls shall dress* 
With simple hands, thy rural tomb. 

Long, long, thy stone, and pointed clay, 

Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes; 
O ! vales, and wild woods, shall he say* 

In yonder grave Your Druid lies! 



AN 



ESSAY 



ON THE 



PLAN AND CHARACTER 



OF 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. 



HEN a work of art to masterly execution 
adds novelty of design, it demands not only a 
cursory admiration, but such a mature enquiry 
into the principles upon which it has been form- 
ed, as may determine how far it deserves to be 
received as a model for future attempts in the 
same walk. Originals are always rare productions. 
The performances of artists in general, even of 
those who stand high in their respective classes, 
are only imitations; which have more or less me- 
rit, in proportion to the degree of skill and judg- 

d 



xxxviii AN ESSAY ON 



ment with which they copy originals more or less 
excellent. A good original, therefore, forms an 
aera in the art itself; and the history of every art 
divides itself into periods comprehending the 
intervals between the appearance of different 
approved originals. Sometimes, indeed, various 
models of a very different cast may exercise the 
talents of imitators during a single period ; and this 
will more frequently be the case, as arts become 
more generally known and studied; difference of 
taste being always the result of liberal and varied 
pursuit. 

How strongly these periods are marked in the 
history of Poetry, both ancient and modern, a cur- 
sory view will suffice to shew. The scarcity of 
originals here is universally acknowledged and la- 
mented, and the present race of poets are thought 
particularly chargeable with this defect. It ought, 
however, to be allowed in their favour, that if ge- 
nius has declined, taste has improved; and that if 
they imitate more, they choose better models to 
copy after. 

That Thomson's Seasons is the original 
whence our modern descriptive poets have derived 
that more elegant and correct style of painting na- 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. 



tural objects which distinguishes them from their 
immediate predecessors, will, I think, appear evi- 
dent to one who examines their several casts and 
manners. That none of them, however, have yet 
equalled their master; and that his performance 
is an exquisite piece, replete with beauties of the 
most engaging and delightful kind, will be sen- 
sibly felt by all of congenial taste ; — and perhaps 
no poem was ever composed which addressed itself 
to the feelings of a greater number of readers. It 
is, therefore, on every account, an object well 
worthy the attention of criticism; and an enquiry 
into the peculiar nature of its plan and the manner 
of its execution may be an agreeable introduction 
to a re-perusal of it in the elegant edition now of- 
fered to the public. 

The description of such natural objects as by 
their beauty, grandeur, or novelty, agreeably im- 
press the imagination, has at all times been a prin- 
cipal and favourite occupation of poetry. Various 
have been the methods in which such descriptions 
have been introduced. They have been made sub- 
servient to the purposes of ornament and illustra- 
tion, in the more elevated and abstracted kind of 
poetry, by being used as objects of similitude. 
They have constituted a pleasing and necessary 



xl AN ESSAY ON 



part of epic narration, when employed in forming 
a scenery suitable to the events. The simple tale 
of pastoral life could scarcely without their aid be 
rendered in any degree interesting. The pre- 
cepts of an art, and the systems of philosophers, 
depend upon the adventitious ornaments afforded 
by them for almost every thing which can render 
them fit subjects for poetry. 

Thus intermixed as they are with almost all, and 
essential to some species of poetry, it was, how- 
ever, thought that they could not legitimately con- 
stitute the whole, or even the principal part, of a 
capital piece. Something of a more solid nature 
was required as the ground-work of a poetical fa- 
bric ; pure description was opposed to sense \ and, 
binding together the wild flowers which grew ob- 
vious to common sight and touch, was deemed a 
trifling and unprofitable amusement. 

Such was the state of critical opinion, when 
Thomson published, in succession, but not in 
their present order*, the pieces which compose 
the Seasons; the first capital work in which 
natural description was professedly the principal 

* They appeared in the following order: Winter, Sum- 
mer, Spring, Autumn. 



THOxMSON's SEASONS. xli 

object. To paint the face of nature as changing 
through the changing seasons; to mark the ap- 
proaches, and trace the progress of these vicissi- 
tudes, in a series of landscapes all formed upon 
images of grandeur or beauty; and to give anima- 
tion and variety to the whole by interspersing man- 
ners and incidents suitable to the scenery ; appears 
to be the general design of this Poem. Essentially 
different from a didactic piece, its business is to de- 
scribe, and the occupation of its leisure to teach. 
And as in the Georgics, whenever the poet has, for 
a while borne away by the warmth of fancy, wan- 
dered through the flowery wilds of description, he 
suddenly checks himself, and returns to the toils of 
the husbandman ; so Thomson, in the midst of his 
delightful lessons of morality, and affecting rela- 
tions, recurs to a view of that state of the season 
which introduced the digression. 

It is an attention to this leading idea, that in 
this piece there is a progressive series of descrip- 
tions, all tending to a certain point, and all parts 
of a general plan, which alone can enable us to 
range through the vast variety and quick succes- 
sion of objects presented in it, with any clear con- 
ception of the writer's method, or true judgment 
concerning what may be regarded as forwarding 



xlii AN ESSAY ON 



his main purpose, or as merely ornamental devia- 
tion. The particular elucidation of this point will 
constitute the principal part of the present Essay. 

Although each of the Seasons appears to have 
been intended as a complete piece, and contains 
within itself the natural order of beginning, mid- 
dle, and termination, yet as they were at length 
collected and modelled by their author, they have 
all a mutual relation to each other, and concur in 
forming a more comprehensive whole. The an- 
nual space in which the earth performs its revolu- 
tion round the sun is so strongly marked by nature 
for a perfect period, that all mankind have agreed 
in forming their computations of time upon it. In 
all the temperate climates of the globe, the four 
seasons are so many progressive stages in this cir- 
cuit, which, like the acts in a well-constructed 
drama, gradually disclose, ripen, and bring to an 
end the various business transacted on the great 
theatre of Nature. The striking analogy which 
this period with its several divisions bears to the 
course of human existence, has been remarked 
and pursued by writers of all ages and countries. 
Spring has been represented as the youth of the 
year — the season of pleasing hope, lively energy, 
and rapid increase — Summer has been resembled 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. xliii 

to perfect manhood — the season of steady warmth, 
confirmed strength, and unremitting vigour. Au- 
tumn, which, while it bestows the rich products 
of full maturity, is yet ever hastening to decline, 
has been aptly compared to that period, when the 
man, mellowed by age, yields the most valuable 
fruits of experience and wisdom, but daily exhibits 
increasing symptoms of decay. The cold, cheer- 
less, and sluggish Winter has almost without a me- 
taphor been termed the decrepid and hoary old 
age of the year. Thus the history of the year, 
pursued through its changing seasons, is that of an 
individual, whose existence is marked by a pro- 
gressive course from its origin to its termination. 
It is thus represented by our poet; this idea pre- 
serves an unity and connection through his whole 
work; and the accurate observer will remark a 
beautiful chain of circumstances in his descrip- 
tion, by which the birth, vigour, decline, and ex- 
tinction of the vital principle of the year are pic- 
tured in the most lively manner. 

This order and gradation of the whole runs, as 
has been already hinted, through each division of 
the poem. Every season has its incipient, con- 
firmed, and receding state, of which its historian 
ought to give distinct views, arranged according 



jtliv AN ESSAY ON 

to the succession in which they appear. Each, 
too, like the prismatic colours, is distinguishably 
blended in its origin and termination with that 
which precedes, and which follows it; and it may 
be expected from the pencil of an artist to hit off 
these mingled shades so as to produce a pleasing 
and picturesque effect. Our poet has not been 
inattentive to these circumstances in the conduct 
of his plan. His Spring begins with a view of 
the season as yet unconfirmed, and partaking of 
the roughness of Winter*; and it is not till after 
several steps in gradual progression, that it breaks 
forth in all its ornaments, as the favourite of Love 
and Pleasure. His Autumn, after a rich pro- 
spect of its bounties and splendours, gently fades 
into " the sere, the yellow leaf," and with the 
lengthened night, the clouded sun, and the rising 
storm, sinks into the arms of Winter. It is re- 
markable, that in order to produce something of a 
similar effect in his Summer, a season which, on 
account of its uniformity of character, does not 
admit of any strongly-marked gradations, he has 
comprised the whole of his description within the 

* A descriptive piece, in which this very interval of time is 
represented, with all the accuracy of a naturalist, and vivid 
colouring of a poet, has lately appeared in a poem of Mr. 
Warton's, intituled " The First of April." 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. xW 

limits of a single day, pursing the course of the sun 
from its rising to its setting. A Summer's day is, 
in reality, a just model of the entire season. Its 
beginning is moist and temperate ; its middle, sul- 
try and parching; its close, soft and refreshing. 
By thus exhibiting all the vicissitudes of Summer 
under one point of view, they are rendered much 
more striking than could have been done in a 
series of feebly contrasted and scarcely distinguish- 
able periods. 

With this idea of the general plan of the whole 
work, and of its several parts, we proceed to take 
a view of the various subjects composing the de- 
scriptive series of which it principally consists. 

Every grand and beautiful appearance in na- 
ture, that distinguishes one portion of the annual 
circuit from another, is a proper source of mate- 
rials for the Poet of the Seasons. Of these, some 
are obvious to the common observer, and require 
only justness and elegance of taste for the selec- 
tion: others discover themselves only to the mind 
opened and enlarged by science and philosophy. 
All the knowledge we acquire concerning natural 
objects by such a train of observation and reason- 
ing as merits the appellation of science, is compre- 



xlvi AN ESSAY ON 



hended under the two divisions of Natural Philoso- 
phy and Natural History. Both of these may be 
employed to advantage in descriptive poetry: for 
although it be true, that poetical composition, 
being rather calculated for amusement than in- 
struction, and addressing itself to the many who 
feel, rather than to the few who reason, is impro- 
perly occupied about the abstruse and argumen- 
tative parts of a science; yet, to reject those grand 
and beautiful ideas which a philosophical view of 
nature offers to the mind, merely because they are 
above the comprehension of vulgar readers, is 
surely an unnecessary degradation of this noble 
art. Still more narrow and unreasonable is that 
critical precept, which, in conformity to the re- 
ceived notion that fiction is the soul of poetry, 
obliges the poet to adopt ancient errors in pre- 
ference to modern truths; and this even where 
truth has the advantage in point of poetical effect. 
In fact, modern philosophy is as much superior to 
the ancient in sublimity as in solidity; and the 
most vivid imagination cannot paint to itself scenes 
of grandeur equal to those which cool science and 
demonstration offer to the enlightened mind. Ob- 
jects so vast and magnificent as planets rolling with 
even pace through their orbits, comets rushing 
along their devious track, light springing from its 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. xlvii 

unexhausted source, mighty rivers formed in their 
subterranean beds, do not require,- or even admit, 
a heightening from the fancy. The most faith- 
ful pencil here produces the noblest pictures; and 
Thomson, by strictly adhering to the character 
of the Poet of Nature, has treated all these topics 
with a true sublimity, which a writer of less know- 
ledge and accuracy could never have attained. 
The strict propriety with which subjects from As- 
tronomy and the other parts of Natural Philoso- 
phy are introduced into a poem describing the 
changes of the Seasons, need not be insisted on, 
since it is obvious that the primary cause of all 
these changes is to be sought in principles derived 
from these sciences. They are the ground -work 
of the whole ; and establish that connected series 
of cause and effect, upon which all those ap- 
pearances in nature depend, from whence the de- 
scriptive poet draws his materials. 

Natural History, in its most extensive significa- 
tion, includes every observation relative to the 
distinctions, resemblances, and changes of all 
the bodies, both animate and inanimate, which 
nature offers to us. These observations, however, 
deserve to be considered as part of a science only 
when they refer to some general truth, and form 



xlviii AN ESSAY ON 



a link of that vast chain which connects all created 
beings in one grand system. It was my attempt, 
in an Essay lately published*, to shew how neces- 
sary a more accurate and scientific survey of natu- 
ral objects than has usually been taken, was to the 
avoiding the common defects, and attaining the 
highest beauties of descriptive poetry; and some 
of the most striking examples of excellence arising 
from this source were extracted from the poem 
now before us. It will be unnecessary here to 
recapitulate the substance of these remarks, or to 
mark out singly the several passages of our author 
which display his talents for description to the 
greatest advantage. Our present design rather re- 
quires such a general view of the materials he has 
collected, and the method in which he has ar- 
ranged them, as may shew in what degree they 
forward and coincide with the plan of his work. 

The correspondence between certain changes in 
the animal and vegetable tribes, and those revolu- 
tions of the heavenly bodies which produce the 
vicissitudes of the Seasons, is the foundation of an 
alliance between Astronomy and Natural History, 
that equally demands attention, as a matter of cu- 

* Essay on the Application of Natural History to Poetry. 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. xlix 

rious speculation and of practical utility. The 
astronomical calendar, filled up by the Naturalist, 
is a combination of science at the same time preg- 
nant with important instruction to the husband- 
man, and fertile in grand and pleasing objects to 
the poet and philosopher. Thomson seems con- 
stantly to have kept in view a combination of this 
kind; and to have formed from it such an idea of 
the economy of Nature, as enabled him to pre- 
serve a regularity of method and uniformity of 
design through all the variety of his descriptions. 
We shall attempt to draw out a kind of historical 
narrative of his progress through the Seasons, as 
far as this order is observable. 

Spring is characterized as the season of the re- 
novation of nature; in which animals and vege- 
tables, excited by the kindly influence of return- 
ing warmth, shake off the torpid inaction of Win- 
ter, and prepare for the continuance and increase 
of their several species. The vegetable tribes, as 
more independent and self- provided, lead the way 
in this progress. The poet, accordingly, begins 
with representing the reviviscent plants emerging, 
as soon as genial showers have softened the ground, 
in numbers " beyond the power of botanists to 
" reckon up their tribes." The opening bios- 



AN ESSAY ON 



soms and flowers soon call forth from their winter 
retreats those industrious insects which derive sus- 
tenance from their nectareous juices. As the 
beams of the sun become more potent, the larger 
vegetables, shrubs and trees, unfold their leaves ; 
and, as soon as a friendly concealment is by their 
means provided for the various nations of the fea- 
thered race, they joyfully begin the course of la- 
borious, but pleasing occupations, which are to 
engage them during the whole season. The 
delightful series of pictures, so truly expressive of 
that genial spirit that pervades the Spring, which 
Thomson has formed on the variety of circum- 
stances attending the Passion of the Groves, cannot 
escape the notice and admiration of the most neg- 
ligent eye. Affected by the same soft influence, 
and equally indebted to the renewed vegetable 
tribes for food and shelter, the several kinds of 
quadrupeds are represented as concurring in the 
celebration of this charming Season with conjugal 
and parental rites. Even Man himself, though 
from his social condition less under the dominion 
of physical necessities, is properly described as 
partaking of the general ardour. . Such is the order 
and connexion of this whole book, that it might 
well pass for a commentary upon a most beautiful 
passage in the philosophical poet Lucretius; who 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. 



certainly wanted nothing but a better system and 
more circumscribed subject, to have appeared as 
one of the greatest masters of description in either 
ancient or modern poetry. Reasoning on the 
imperishable nature, and perpetual circulation, of 
the particles of matter, he deduces all the delight- 
ful appearances of Spring from the seeds of ferti- 
lity which descend in the vernal showers. 

pereunt imbres, ubi eos pater ^Ether 



In gremium matris Terrai precipitavit. 
At nitidse surgunt fruges, ramique virescunt 
Arboribus; crescunt ipsse, fcetuque gravantur: 
Hinc alitur porro nostrum genus, atque ferarum : 
Hinc laetas urbeis pueris florere videmus, 
Frundiferasque novis avibus canere undique sylvas . 
Hinc fessae pecudes pingues per pabula beta 
Corpora deponunt, et candens lacteus humor 
Uberibus manat distentis ; hinc nova proles 
Artubus infirmis teneras lasciva per herbas 
Ludit, lacte mero menteis percussa novellas. 

Lib. I. 251, &c. 

The rains are lost when Jove descends in showers 
Soft on the bosom of the parent earth: 
But springs the shining grain; their verdant robe 
The trees resume; they grow, and pregnant bend 
Beneath their fertile load : hence kindly food 
The living tribes receive: the cheerful town 
Beholds its joyous bands of flowering youth ; 
With new-born songs the leafy groves resound : 



Mi AN ESSAY ON 



The full-fed flocks amid the laughing meacls 
Their weary bodies lay, while wide-distent 
The plenteous udder teems with milky juice; 
And o'er the grass, as their young hearts beat high, 
SwelFd by the pure and generous streams they drain, 
Frolic the wanton lambs with joints infirm. 

The period of Summer is marked by fewer and 
less striking changes in the face of Nature. A 
soft and pleasing languor, interrupted only by the 
gradual progression of the vegetable and animal 
tribes towards their state of maturity, forms the 
leading character of this Season. The active fer- 
mentation of the juices, which the first access of 
genial warmth had excited, now subsides; and the 
increasing heats rather inspire faintness and inac- 
tion than lively exertions. The insect race alone 
seem animated with peculiar vigour under the 
more direct influence of the sun; and are there- 
fore with equal truth and advantage introduced by 
the poet to enliven the silent and drooping scenes 
presented by the other forms of animal nature. 
As this source, however, together with whatever 
else our summers afford, is insufficient to furnish 
novelty and business enough for this act of the 
drama of the year, the poet judiciously opens a 
new field, profusely fertile in objects suited to the 
glowing colours of descriptive poetry. By an easy 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. liii 

and natural transition, he quits the chastised sum- 
mer of our temperate clime for those regions where 
a perpetual Summer reigns, exalted by such supe- 
rior degrees of solar heat as give an entirely new 
face to almost every part of nature. The terrific 
grandeur prevalent in some of these, the exquisite 
richness and beauty in others, and the novelty in 
all, afford such a happy variety for the poet's se- 
lection, that we need not wonder if some of his 
noblest pieces are the product of this delightful 
excursion. He returns, however, with apparent 
satisfaction, to take a last survey of the softer sum- 
mer of our island ; and, after closing the prospect 
of terrestrial beauties, artfully shifts the scene to 
celestial splendours, ivhich, though perhaps not 
more striking in this season than in some of the 
others, are now alone agreeable objects of contem- 
plation in a northern climate. 

Autumn is too eventful a period in the history 
of the year, within the temperate parts of the globe, 
to require foreign aid for rendering it more varied 
and interesting. The promise of the Spring is now 
fulfilled. The silent and gradual process of ma- 
turation is completed ; and Human Industry be- 
holds with triumph the rich products of its toil. 
The vegetable tribes disclose their infinitely vari- 



Hv AN ESSAY ON 



ous forms of fruit; which term, while, with respecf 
to common use, it is confined to a few peculiar 
modes of fructification, in the more comprehen- 
sive language of the Naturalist includes every pro- 
duct of vegetation by which the rudiments of a 
future progeny are developed, and separated from 
the parent plant. These are in part collected and 
stored up by those animals for whose sustenance 
during the ensuing sleep of nature they are pro- 
vided. The rest, furnished with various contri- 
vances for dissemination, are scattered by the 
friendly winds which now begin to blow, over the 
surface of that earth which they are to clothe and 
decorate. The young of the animal race, which 
Spring and Summer had brought forth and che- 
rished, having now acquired sufficient vigour, quit 
their concealments, and offer themselves to the 
pursuit of the carnivorous among their fellow-ani 
mals, and of the great destroyer man. Thus the 
scenery is enlivened with the various sports of the 
hunter; which, however repugnant they may ap- 
pear to that system of general benevolence and 
sympathy which philosophy would inculcate, 
have ever afforded a most agreeable exertion to the 
human powers, and have much to plead in their 
favour as a necessary part of the great plan of Na- 
ture. Indeed, she marks her intention with suf- 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. 



ficient precision, by refusing to grant any longer 
those friendly shades which had grown for the 
protection of the infant offspring. The grove 
loses its honours; but before they are entirely tar- 
nished, an adventitious beauty, arising from that 
gradual decay which loosens the withering leaf, 
gilds the autumnal landscape with a temporary 
splendour, superior to the verdure of Spring, or the 
luxuriance of Summer. The infinitely various 
and ever-changing hues of the leaves at this sea- 
son, melting into every soft gradation of tint and 
shade, have long engaged the imitation of the 
painter, and are equally happy ornaments in the 
description of the poet. 

These unvarying symptoms of approaching 
Winter now warn several of the winged tribes to 
prepare for their aerial voyage to those happy cli- 
mates of perpetual summer, where no deficiency 
of food or shelter can ever distress them; and 
about the same time other fowls of hardier consti- 
tution, which are contented with escaping the iron 
winters of the arctic regions, arrive to supply the 
vacancy. Thus the striking scenes afforded by 
that wonderful part of the economy of nature, the 
migration of birds, present themselves at this sea- 
son to the poet. The thickening fogs, the heavy 



lvi AN ESSAY ON 



rains, the swoln rivers, while they deform this 
sinking period of the year, add new subjects to 
the pleasing variety which reigns throughout its 
whole course, and which justifies the poet's cha- 
racter of it, as the season when the Muse " best 
exerts her voice." 

Winter, directly opposite as it is in other re- 
spects to Summer, yet resembles it in this, that it is 
a Season in which Nature is employed rather in 
secretly preparing for the mighty changes which 
it successively brings to light, than in the actual 
exhibition of them. It is therefore a period 
equally barren of events; and has still less of ani- 
mation than Summer, inasmuch as lethargic in- 
sensibility is a state more distant from vital energy 
than the languor of indolent repose. From the 
fall of the leaf, and withering of the herb, an un- 
varying death-like torpor oppresses almost the 
whole vegetable creation, and a considerable part 
of the animal, during this entire portion of the 
year. The whole insect race, which filled every 
part of the Summer landscape with life and mo- 
tion, are now either buried in profound sleep, or 
actually no longer exist, except in the unformed 
rudiments of a future progeny. Many of the 
birds and quadrupeds are retired to concealments. 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. Ivii 



from which not even the calls of hunger can 
force them ; and the rest, intent only on the pre- 
servation of a joyless being, have ceased to exert 
those powers of pleasing, which, at other seasons, 
so much contribute to their mutual happiness, as 
well as to the amusement of their human sove- 
reign. Their social connexions, however, are 
improved by. their wants. In order the better to 
procure their scanty subsistence, and resist the in- 
clemencies of the sky, they are taught by instinct 
to assemble in flocks; and this provision has the 
secondary effect of gratifying the spectator with 
something of novelty and action even in the drea- 
riness of a wintry prospect. 

But it is in the extraordinary changes and agi- 
tations which the elements and the surrounding 
atmosphere undergo during this season, that the 
poet of nature must principally look for relief 
from the gloomy uniformity reigning through 
other parts of the creation. Here scenes are pre- 
sented to his view, which, were they less frequent, 
must strike with wonder and admiration the most 
incurious spectator. The effects of cold are more 
sudden, and in many instances more extraordinary 
and unexpected, than those of heat. He who has 



IviiL AN ESSAY ON 



beheld the vegetable productions of even a nor- 
thern Summer, will not be greatly amazed at the 
richer, and more luxuriant, but still resembling, 
growths of the tropics. But one, who has always 
been accustomed to view water in a liquid and co- 
lourless state, cannot form the least conception of 
the same element as hardened into an extensive 
plain of solid crystal, or covering the ground with 
a robe of the purest white. The highest possible 
degree of astonishment must therefore attend the 
first view of these phenomena; and as in our 
temperate climate but a small portion of the year 
affords these spectacles, we find that, even here, 
they have novelty enough to excite emotions of 
agreeable surprise. But it is not to novelty alone 
that they owe their charms. Their intrinsic 
beauty is, perhaps, individually superior to that of 
the gayest objects presented by the other seasons. 
Where is the elegance and brilliancy that can 
compare with that which decorates every tree or 
bush on the clear morning succeeding a night of 
hoar frost? or what is the lustre that would not 
appear dull and tarnished in competition with a 
field of snow just glazed over with frost ? By the 
vivid description of such objects as these, con- 
trasted with the savage sublimity of storms and 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. Hx 

» ... . — _, 

tempests, our poet has been able to produce a set 
of winter landscapes, as engaging to the fancy as 
the apparently happier scenes of genial warmth 
and verdure. 

But he has not trusted entirely to these resources 
for combating the natural sterility of Winter. Re- 
peating the pleasing artifice of his Summer, he 
has called in foreign aid, and has heightened the 
scenery with grandeur and horror not our own. 
The famished troops of wolves pouring from the 
Alps; the mountains of snow rolling down the 
precipices of the same regions; the dreary plains 
over which the Laplander urges his rein-deer; the 
wonders of the icy sea, the volcanoes " flaming 
thro' ft waste of snow;" are objects judiciously se- 
lected from all that Nature presents most singular 
and striking in the various domains of boreal cold 
and wintry desolation. 

Thus have we attempted to give a general view 
of those materials which constitute the ground- 
work of a poem on the Seasons; which are essen- 
tial to its very nature; and on the proper arrange- 
ment of which its regularity and connexion de- 
pend. The extent of knowledge, as well as the 
powers of description, which Thomson has exhi- 



lx AN ESSAY ON 



bitcd in this part of his work, is, on the whole, 
truly admirable ; and though, with the present 
advanced taste for accurate observation in Natural 
History, some improvements might be suggested, 
yet he certainly remains unrivalled in the list of 
descriptive poets. 

But the rural landscape is not solely made up of 
land, and water, and trees, and birds, and beasts ; 
man is a distinguished fire in it; his multiplied 
occupations and concerns introduce themselves 
into every part of it; he intermixes even in the 
wildest and rudest scenes, and throws a life and 
interest upon every surrounding object. Manners 
and character therefore constitute a part even of a 
descriptive poem ; and in a plan so extensive as 
the history of the year, they must enter under va- 
rious forms, and upon numerous occasions. 

The most obvious and appropriated use of hu- 
man figures in pictures of the Seasons, is the intro- 
duction of them to assist in marking out the suc- 
cession of annual changes by their various labours 
and amusements. In common with other animals, 
man is directed in the diversified employment of 
earning a toilsome subsistence by an attention to 
the vicissitudes of the seasons; and all his diver- 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. by 



sions in the simple state of rustic society are also 
regulated by the same circumstance. Thus a se- 
ries of moving figures enlivens the landscape, and 
contributes to stamp on each scene its peculiar 
character. The shepherd, the husbandman, the 
hunter, appear in their turns ; and may be con- 
sidered as natural concomitants of that portion of 
the yearly round which prompts their several oc- 
cupations. 

But it is not only the bodily pursuits of man 
which are affected by these changes ; the sensa- 
tions and affections of his mind are almost equally 
under their influence : and the result of the whole, 
as forming the enamoured votary of Nature to a 
peculiar cast of character and manners, is not less 
conspicuous. Thus the poet of the Seasons is at 
liberty, without deviating from his plan, to de- 
scant on the varieties of moral constitution, and the 
powers which external causes are found to possess 
over the temper of the soul. He may draw pic- 
tures of the pastoral life in all its genuine simpli- 
city; and, assuming the tone of a moral instructor, 
may contrast the peace and felicity of innocent 
retirement with the turbulent agitations of ambi- 
tion and avarice. 



lxii AN ESSAY ON 



The various incidents too, upon which the sim- 
ple tale of rural events is founded, are very much 
modelled by the difference of seasons. The cata- 
strophes of Winter differ from those of Summer; 
the sports of Spring from those of Autumn. Thus, 
little history pieces and adventures, whether pa- 
thetic or amusing, will suggest themselves to the 
Poet; which, when properly adapted to the sce- 
nery and circumstances, may very happily coin- 
cide with the main design of the composition. 

The bare enumeration of these several occasions 
of introducing draughts of human life and man- 
ners, will be sufficient to call to mind the admir- 
able use which Thomson throughout his whole 
poem has made of them. He, in fact, never 
appears more truly inspired with his subject, than 
when giving birth to those sentiments of tender- 
ness and beneficence, which seem to have occu- 
pied his whole heart. An universal benevolence, 
extending to every part of the animal creation, 
manifests itself in almost every scene he draws; 
and the rural character, as delineated in his feel- 
ings, contains all the softness, purity, and simpli- 
city that are feigned of the golden age. Yet ex- 
cellent as the moral and sentimental part of his 
work must appear to every congenial mind, it is, 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. lxiii 

perhaps, that in which he may the most easily be 
rivalled. A refined and feeling heart may derive 
from its own proper sources a store of correspond- 
ing sentiment, which will naturally clothe itself 
in the form of expression best suited to the occa- 
sion. Nor does the invention of those simple in- 
cidents which are most adapted to excite the sym- 
pathetic emotions, require any great stretch of 
fancy. The nearer they approach to common 
life, the more certainly will they produce their 
effect. Wonder and surprise are affections of so 
different a kind, and so distract the attention, that 
they never fail to diminish the force of the pathetic. 
On these accounts, writers much inferior in respect 
to the powers of description and imagery, have 
equalled our poet in elegant and benevolent sen- 
timent, and perhaps excelled him in interesting 
narration. Of these, it will be sufficient to men- 
tion the ingenious author of a French poem on the 
Seasons; who, though a mere copyist in the de- 
scriptive parts, has made many pleasing additions 
to the manners and incidents proper for such a 
composition. 

But there is a strain of sentiment of a higher and 
more digressive nature, with which Thomson has 
occupied a considerable portion of his poem. The 



Ixiv AN ESSAY ON 



fundamental principles of moral philosophy, ideas 
concerning the origin and progress of government 
and civilization, historical sketches, and reviews of 
the characters most famous in ancient and modern 
history, are interspersed through the various parts 
of the Seasons. The manly, liberal, and en- 
lightened spirit which this writer breathes in all 
his works, must ever endear him to the friends of 
truth and virtue; and, in particular, his genuine 
patriotism and zeal in the cause of liberty will 
render his writings always estimable to the British 
reader. But, just and important as his thoughts 
on these topics may be, there may remain a doubt 
in the breast of the critic, whether their introduc- 
tion in a piece like this do not, in some instances, 
break in upon that unity of character which every 
work of art should support. We have seen, from 
the general plan and tenor of the poem, that it is 
professedly of the rural cast. The objects it is 
chiefly conversant with are those presented by the 
hand of Nature, not the products of human heart; 
and when man himself is introduced as a part of 
the groupe, it would seem that, in conformity to 
the rest, he ought to be represented in such a state 
only, as the simplest forms of society, and most 
unconstrained situations in it, exhibit. Courts 
and cities, camps and senates, do not well accord 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. ]xv 

with silvan scenery. From the principle of con- 
gruity, therefore, a critic might be induced to 
reject some of these digressive ornaments, though 
intrinsically beautiful, and doubtless contributing 
to the elevation and variety of the piece. His 
judgment in this respect would be a good deaj 
influenced by the manner of their introduction. 
In some instances this is so easy and natural, that 
the mind is scarcely sensible of the deviation; in 
others it is more abrupt and unartful. As exam- 
ples of both, we may refer to the passages in which 
various characters from English, and from Grecian 
and Roman history, are displayed. The former, 
by a happy gradation, is introduced at the close of 
a delightful piece, containing the praises of Bri- 
tain; which is itself a kind of digression, though 
a very apt and seasonable one. The. latter has no 
other connexion with the part at which it is in- 
serted, than the very forced and distant one, that 
as reading may be reckoned among the amuse- 
ments appropriated to Winter, such subjects as 
these will naturally offer themselves to the studious 
mind. 

There is another source of sentiment to the Poet 
of the Seasons, which, while it is superior to the 



IxYi AN ESSAY ON 



last in real elevation, is also strictly connected with 
the nature of his work. The genuine philosopher, 
while he surveys the grand and beautiful objects 
every where surrounding him, will be prompted 
to lift his eye to the great cause of all these won- 
ders; the planner and architect of this mighty fa- 
bric, every minute part of which so much awakens 
his curiosity and admiration. The laws by which 
this Being acts, the ends which he seems to have 
pursued, must excite his humble researches; and 
in proportion as he discovers infinite power in the 
means, directed by infinite goodness in the inten- 
tion, his soul must be wrapt in astonishment, and 
expanded with gratitude. The economy of Na- 
ture will, to such an observer, be the perfect 
scheme of an all-wise and beneficent mind ; and 
every part of the wide creation will appear to pro- 
claim the praise of its great Author. Thus a new 
connexion will manifest itself between the several 
parts of the universe; and a new order and design 
will be traced through the progress of its various 
revolutions. 

Thomson's Seasons is as eminently a religi- 
ous, as it is a descriptive poem. Thoroughly im- 
pressed with sentiments of veneration for the Au- 



THOMSON'S SEASONS. hcvfi 

thor of that assemblage of order and beauty which 
it was his province to paint, he takes every proper 
occasion to excite similar emotions in the breasts 
of his readers. Entirely free from the gloom of 
superstition and the narrowness of bigotry, he 
every where represents the Deity as the kind and 
beneficient parent of all his works, always watch- 
ful over their best interests, and from seeming evil 
still educing the greatest possible good to all his 
creatures. In every appearance of nature he be- 
holds the operation of a divine hand ; and regards, 
according to his own emphatical phrase, each 
change throughout the revolving year as but the 
" varied God/' This spirit, which breaks forth 
at intervals in each division of his poem, shines 
full and concentred in that noble Hymn which 
crowns the work. This piece, the sublimest pro- 
duction of its kind since the days of Milton, 
should be considered as the winding up of all the 
variety of matter and design contained in the pre- 
ceding parts; and thus is not only admirable 
as a separate composition, but is contrived with 
masterly skill to strengthen the unity and con- 
nexion of the great whole. 

Thus is planned and contructed a Poem, which, 
founded as it is upon the unfading beauties of Na- 



lxviii ESSAY ON THOMSON'S SEASONS. 

ture, will live as long as the language in which it 
is written shall be read. If the perusal of it be in 
any respect rendered more interesting or instruc- 
tive by this imperfect Essay, the purpose of the 
writer will be fully answered. 



THE ARGUMENT, 



The subject proposed. Inscribed to the Countess of Hertford. The Season 
is described as it affects the various parts of Nature, ascending from the 
lower to the higher ; with digressions arising from the subject. Its influ- 
ence on inanimate matter, on vegetables, on brute animals, and, last, on 
Man : concluding with a dissuasive from the wild and irregular passion of 
love, opposed to that of a pure and happy kind. 




Spring 

a //// /7//////'t ////y //wj/Z /pA/sWl& 



Published hr ternor <fc Jfcnrf.Ptrultry.idaz . 



SPRING. 



BOOK I. 



The Subject proposed. Inscribed to the Countess of Hertford. 

v/OME, gentle Spring ! ethereal Mildness ! come; 
And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud, 
While music wakes around, veil'd in a shower 
Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend. 

O Hertford ! fitted or to shine in courts 5 

With unaffected grace, or walk the plain 
With innocence and meditation join'd 
In soft assemblage, listen to my song, 
Which thy own Season paints ; when Nature all 
Is blooming and benevolent, like thee. 10 

And see where surly Winter passes off, 
Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts ; 
His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill, 



SPRING. 



The Season described as it affects 



The shatter'd forest, and the ravaged vale ; 

While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch, 15 

Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost, 

The mountains lift their green heads to the sky. 

As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd, 
And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze ; 
Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets 2Q 
Deform the day delightless \ so that scarce 
The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulpht 
To shake the sounding marsh ; or from the shore 
The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath, 
And sing their wild notes to the listening waste. 25 

At last from Aries rolls the bounteous sun, 
And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more 
Th* expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold ; 
But, full of life and vivifying soul, 
Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads them thin, 30 
Fleecy and white, o'er all-surrounding heaven. 

Forth fly the tepid airs \ and unconfin'd, 
Unbinding earth, the moving softness strays. 
Joyous, th' impatient husbandman perceives 
Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers 35 

Drives from their stalls, to where the well-us'd plough 
Lies in the furrow, loosened from the frost ; 
There, unre fusing, to the harness'd yoke 



SPRING. 



the various Parts of Nature. 



They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil, 
Cheer'd by the simple song and soaring lark. 40 

Meanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share 
The master leans, removes th* obstructing clay, 
Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the glebe. 

White thro' the neighb'ring fields the sower stalks, 
With measur'd step ; and liberal throws the grain 45 
Into the faithful bosom of the ground : 
The harrow follows harsh, and shuts the scene. 

Be gracious, Heaven ! for now laborious Man 
Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes ! blow ; 
Ye softening dews ! ye tender showers ! descend ; 50 
And temper all, thou world-reviving sun ! 
Into the perfect year. Nor ye who live 
In luxury and ease* in pomp and pride, 
Think these lost themes unworthy of your ear : 
Such themes as these the rural Maro sung 55 

To wide-imperial Rome, in the full height 
Of elegance and taste, by Greece refin'd. 

In ancient times, the sacred plough employ'd 
The kings, and awful fathers of mankind : 
And some, with whom compar'd your insect tribes 60 
Are but the beings of a summer's day, 
Have held the scale of empire, ruPd the storm 
Of mighty war ; then, with unwearied hand, 



SPRING. 



The Season described as it affects 



Disdaining little delicacies, seiz'd 

The plough/ and greatly independent liv'd. 65 

Ye generous Britons, venerate the plough ; 
And o'er your hills, and long withdrawing vales, 
Let Autumn spread his treasures to the sun, 
Luxuriant and unbounded : as the sea, 
Far thro' his azure turbulent domain, 70 

Your empire owns ; and from a thousand shores 
Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports ; 
So with superior boon may your rich soil, 
Exuberant, Nature's better blessings pour 
O'er every land ; the naked nations clothe ; 75 

And be th' exhaustless granary of a world. 

Nor only thro' the lenient air this change, 
Delicious, breathes y the penetrative sun, 
His force deep-darting to the dark retreat 
Of vegetation, sets the steaming Power 80 

At large, to wander o'er the vernant earth, 
In various hues ; but chiefly thee, gay Green ! 
Thou smiling Nature's universal robe ! 
United light and shade ! where the sight dwells 
With growing strength, and ever new delight. 85 

From the moist meadow to the wither'd hill, 
Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs ; 
And swells, and deepens, to the cherish'd eye. 



SPRING. 



the various Parts of Nature. 



The hawthorn whitens ; and the juicy groves 

Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, 90 

Till the whole leafy forest stands display'd, 

In full luxuriance, to the sighing gales ; 

Where the deer rustle thro* the twining brake, 

And the birds sing conceal'd. At once, array'd 

In all the colours of the flushing year, 95 

By Nature's swift and secret-working hand* 

The garden glows, and fills the liberal air 

With lavish fragrance \ while the promis'd fruit 

Lies yet a little embryo, unperceiv'd, 

Within its crimson folds. Now from the town 100 

Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps, 

Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields, 

Where freshness breathes \ and dash the trembling drops 

From the bent bush* as thro* the verdant maze 

Of sweet-briar hedges I pursue my walk - y 105 

Or taste the smell of dairy ; or ascend 

Some eminence, Augusta, in thy plains ; 

And see the country, far difFus'd around, 

One boundless blush ; one white-empurpled shower 

Of mingled blossoms; where the raptur'd eye 110 

Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath 

The fair profusion, yellow Autumn spies : 

If, brush'd from Russian wilds, a cutting gale 



SPRING. 



The Season described as it affects 



Rise not, and scatter from his humid wings 

The clammy mildew ; or, dry-blowing, breathe 115 

Untimely frost ; before whose baleful blast 

The full-blown Spring thro* all her foliage shrinks, 

Joyless and dead, a wide-dejected waste. 

For oft, engender'd by the hazy North, 

Myriads on myriads, insect armies warp 120 

Keen in the poison'd breeze % and wasteful eat, 

Thro' buds and bark, into the blacken'd core, 

Their eager way. A feeble race ! yet oft 

The sacred sons of vengeance ; on whose course 

Corrosive famine waits, and kills the year. 125 

To check this plague, the skilful farmer, chaff 

And blazing straw, before his orchard burns ; 

Till, all involv'd in smoke, the latent foe 

From every cranny suffocated falls : 

Or scatters o'er the blooms the pungent dust 130 

Of pepper, fatal to the frosty tribe : 

Or, when th* envenom'd leaf begins to curl, 

With sprinkled water drowns them in their nest ; 

Nor, while they pick them up with busy bill, 

The little trooping birds unwisely scares. 135 

Be patient, swains ; these cruel-seeming winds 
Blow not in vain. Far hence they keep repress'd 
Those deepening clouds on clouds, surcharg'd with rain.. 



SPRING. 



the various Parts of Nature. 



That o'er the vast Atlantic hither borne, 

In endless train would quench the summer-blaze, 140 

And, cheerless, drown the crude unripened year. 

The North-east spends his rage ; he now shut up 
Within his iron cave, th' effusive South 
Warms the wide air -, and o'er the void of heaven 
Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers distent. 145 
At first a dusky wreath they seem to rise, 
Scarce staining ether ; but by swift degrees, 
In heaps on heaps, the doubling vapour sails 
Along the loaded sky, and mingling deep, 
Sits on th' horizon round a settled gloom : 1 50 

Not such as wintry storms on mortals shed, 
Oppressing life ; but lovely, gentle, kind, 
And full of every hope and every joy, 
The wish of Nature. Gradual sinks the breeze 
Into a perfect calm ; that not a breath 155 

Is heard to quiver thro* the closing woods, 
Or rustling turn the many-twinkling leaves 
Of aspin tall. Th' uncurling floods, diftus'd 
In glassy breadth, seem thro' delusive lapse 
Forgetful of their course. 'Tis silence all, 160 

And pleasing expectation. Herds and flocks 
Drop the dry sprig, and mute-imploring eye 
The falling verdure. Hush'd in short suspense, 



10 SPRING. 



The Season described as it affects 



The plum} people streak their wings with oil, 

To throw the lucid moisture trickling off; 165 

And wait th' approaching sign to strike, at once, 

Into the general choir. Ev'n mountains, vales, 

And forests seem, impatient, to demand 

The promis'd sweetness. Man superior walks 

Amid the glad creation, musing praise, 170 

And looking lively gratitude. At last, 

The clouds consign their treasures to the fields ; 

And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool 

Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow, 

In large effusion, o'er the freshened world. 175 

The stealing shower is scarce to patter heard, 
By such as wander thro' the forest walks, 
Beneath th' umbrageous multitude of leaves. 
But who can hold the shade, while Heaven descends 
In universal bounty, shedding herbs, 180 

And fruits, and flowers, on Nature's ample lap ? 
Swift fancy fir'd anticipates their growth \ 
And, while the milky nutriment distils, 
Beholds the kindling country colour round. 

Thus all day long the full-distended clouds 185 
Indulge their genial stores, and well-shower'd earth 
Is deep enrich'd with vegetable life -> 
Till 5 in the western sky, the downward sun 



SPRING. 11 



the various Parts of Nature. 



Looks out, effulgent, from amid the flush 

Of broken clouds, gay-shifting to his beam. 190 

The rapid radiance instantaneous strikes 

Th' illumin'd mountain, thro* the forest streams, 

Shakes on the floods, and in a yellow mist, 

Far smoking o'er th* interminable plain, 

In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems. 195 

MoiST,bright,and green, the landskip laughs around ; 
Full swell the woods ; their every music wakes, 
Mix'd in wild concert with the warbling brooks 
Increas'd, the distant bleatings of the hills, 
And hollow lows responsive from the vales, 200 

Whence blending all the sweetened zephyr springs. 
Meantime refracted from yon eastern cloud, 
Bestriding earth, the grand ethereal bow 
Shoots up immense ; and every hue unfolds, 
In fair proportion, running from the red, 205 

To where the violet fades into the sky. 

Here, awful Newton ! the dissolving clouds 
Form, fronting on the sun, thy showery prism ; 
And to the sage-instructed eye unfold 
The various twine of light, by thee disclos'd 210 

From the white mingling maze. Not so the boy ; 
He wondering views the bright enchantment bend, 
Delightful, o'er the radiant fields, and runs 



12 SPRING. 



The Season described as it afFects 



To catch the falling glory ; but amaz'd 

Beholds th' amusive arch before him fly, 215 

Then vanish quite away. Still night succeeds ; 

A softened shade, and saturated earth 

Awaits the morning-beam ; to give to light 

Raised thro' ten thousand different plastic tubes, 

The balmy treasures of the former day. 220 

Then spring the living herbs, profusely wild, 
O'er all the deep-green earth, beyond the power 
Of botanist to number up their tribes : 
Whether he steals along the lonely dale, 
In silent search ; or thro' the forest, rank 225 

With what the dull incurious weeds account, 
Bursts his blind way ; or climbs the mountain-rock, 
Fir'd by the nodding verdure of its brow. 
With such a liberal hand has Nature flung 
Their seeds abroad, blown them about in winds, 230 
Innumerous mix'd them with the nursing mould, 
The moistening current, and prolific rain. 

But who their virtues can declare ? who pierce, 
With vision pure, into these secret stores 
Of health, and life, and joy ? the food of Man, 235 
While yet he liv'd in innocence, and told 
A length of golden years ; unflesh'd in blood, 
A stranger to the savage arts of life, 



SPRING. 13 



the various Parts of Nature. 



Death, rapine, carnage, surfeit, and disease ; 

The lord, and not the tyrant, of the world. 240 

The first fresh dawn then wak'd the gladdened race 
Of uncorrupted Man, nor blush'd to see 
The sluggard sleep beneath its sacred beam ; 
For their light slumbers gently fum'd away ; 
And up they rose as vigorous as the sun, 245 

Or to the culture of the willing glebe, 
Or to the cheerful tendance of the flock. 
Meantime the song went round ; and dance and sport, 
Wisdom and friendly talk, successive, stole 
Their hours away. While in the rosy vale 250 

Love breath'd his infant sighs, from anguish free, 
And full replete with bliss ; save the sweet pain, 
That, inly thrilling, but exalts it more. 

Nor yet injurious act, nor surly deed, 
Was known among those happy sons of Heaven ; 255 
For reason and benevolence were law. 
Harmonious Nature too look'd smiling on ; 
Clear shone the skies, cool'd with eternal gales, 
And balmy spirit all. The youthful sun 
Shot his best rays, and still the gracious clouds 260 
Drop'cl fatness down \ as o'er the swelling mead, 
The herds and flocks, commixing, play'd secure. 
This when, emergent from the gloomy wood, 



14 SPRING. 



The Season described as it affects 



The glaring lion saw, his horrid heart 

Was meekened, and he join'd his sullen joy ; 265 

For music held the whole in perfect peace ; 

Soft sigh'd the flute ; the tender voice was heard, 

Warbling the varied heart ; the woodlands round 

Apply'd their quire ; and winds and waters flow'd 

In consonance. Such were those prime of days. 270 

But now those white unblemish'd manners, whence 
The fabling poets took their golden age, 
Are found no more amid these iron times, 
These dregs of life ! Now the distemper'd mind 
Has lost that concord of harmonious powers, 275 
Which forms the soul of happiness ; and all 
Is off the poise within : the passions all 
Have burst their bounds ; and reason half extinct, . 
Or impotent, or else approving, sees 
The foul disorder. Senseless, and deform'd, 280 
Convulsive anger storms at large ; or pale, 
And silent, settles into fell revenge. 
Base envy withers at another's joy, 
And hates that excellence it cannot reach. 
Desponding fear, of feeble fancies full, 285 

Weak and unmanly, loosens every power. 

Ev'n love itself is bitterness of soul, 
A pensive anguish pining at the heart \ 



SPRING. 15 



the various Parts of Nature. 



Or, sunk to sordid interest, feels no more 

That noble wish, that never-cloy'd desire, 290 

Which;, selfish joy disdaining, seeks alone 

To bless the dearer object of its flame. 

Hope sickens with extravagance ; and grief, 

Of life impatient, into madness swells, 

Or in dead silence wastes the weeping hours. 295 

These, and a thousand mixt emotions more, 
From ever-changing views of good and ill, 
Form'd infinitely various, vex the mind 
With endless storm : whence, deeply rankling, grows 
The partial thought, a listless unconcern, 300 

Cold, and averting from our neighbour's good ; 
Then dark disgust, and hatred, winding wiles, 
Coward deceit, and ruffian violence : 
At last, extinct each social feeling, fell 
And joyless inhumanity pervades 305 

And petrifies the heart. Nature disturbs 
Is deem'd, vindictive, to have chang'd her course. 

Hence, in old dusky time, a deluge came ; 
When the deep-cleft disparting orb, that arch'd 
The central waters round, impetuous rush'd, 310 

With universal burst, into the gulph ; 
And o'er the high-pil'd hills of fractur'd earth 
Wide dasVd the waves, in undulation vast > 



16 SPRING. 



The Season described as it affects 



Till, from the centre to the streaming clouds, 

A shoreless ocean tumbled round the globe. 315 

The Seasons since have, with severer sway, 
Oppress'd a broken world : the Winter keen 
Shook forth his waste of snows ; and Summer shot 
His pestilential heats. Great Spring, before, 
Green'd all the year; and fruits and blossoms blush 'd, 
In social sweetness, on the self-same bough. 321 

Pure was the temperate air ; an even calm 
Perpetual reign'd, save what the zephyrs bland 
Breath'd o'er the blue expanse ; for then nor storms 
Were taught to blow, nor hurricanes to rage -, 325 
Sound slept the waters ; no sulphureous glooms 
Swell J d in the sky, and sent the lightning forth ; 
While sickly damps, and cold autumnal fogs, 
Hung not, relaxing, on the springs of life. 
But now, of turbid elements the sport, 330 

From clear to cloudy tost, from hot to cold, 
And dry to moist, with inward-eating change, 
Our drooping days are dwindled down to nought, 
Their period finish'd ere 't is well begun. 

And yet the wholesome herb neglected dies ; 335 
Tho' with the pure exhilarating soul 
Of nutriment and health, and vital powers, 
Beyond the search of art, 't is copious blest. 



SPRING. 17 



the various Parts of Nature. 



For, with hot ravine fir'd, ensanguin'd Man 

Is now become the lion of the plain, 340 

And worse. The wolf, who from the nightly fold 

Fierce-drags the bleating prey, ne'er drunk her milk 

Nor wore her warming fleece : nor has the steer, 

At whose strong chest the deadly tyger hangs, 

E'er plow'd for him. They too are temper'd high, 345 

With hunger stung, and wild necessity ; 

Nor lodges pity in their shaggy breast. 

But Man, whom Nature form'd of milder clay, 

With every kind emotion in his heart, 

And taught alone to weep ; while from her lap 350 

She pours ten thousand delicacies, herbs, 

And fruits, as numerous as the drops of rain 

Or beams that gave them birth : shall he, fair form ! 

Who wears sweet smiles, and looks erect on Heaven, 

E'er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd, 355 

And dip his tongue in gore ? The beast of prey, 

Blood-stain'd, deserves to bleed : but you, ye flocks, 

What have ye done ? ye peaceful people, what, 

To merit death ? You, who have given us milk 

In luscious streams, and lent us your own coat 360 

Against the winter's cold. And the plain ox, 

That harmless, honest, guileless animal, 

In what has he offended ? he, whose toil, 



18 SPRING. 



The Season described as it affects 



Patient and ever ready, clothes the land 

With all the pomp of harvest ; shall he bleed, 365 

And struggling groan beneath the cruel hands 

Ev'n of the clown he feeds ? and that, perhaps, 

To swell the riot of th' autumnal feast, 

Won by his labour ? Thus the feeling heart 

Would tenderly suggest : but 't is enough, 370 

In this late age, adventurous, to have touch'd 

Light on the numbers of the Samian sage. 

High Heaven forbids the bold presumptuous strain, 

Whose wisest will has fix'd us in a state 

That must not yet to pure perfection rise. 375 

Now when the first foul torrent of the brooks, 
Swell'd with the vernal rains, is ebb'd away ; 
And, whitening, down their mossy-tinctur'd stream 
Descends the billowy foam : now is the time, 
While yet the dark-brown water aids the guile, 380 
To tempt the trout. The well-dissembled fly, 
The rod fine-tapering with elastic spring, 
Snatch'd from the hoary steed the floating line, 
And all thy slender watry stores prepare. 
But let not on thy hook the tortur'd worm, 385 

Convulsive, twist in agonizing folds ; 
Which, by rapacious hunger swallow'd deep, 
Gives, as you tear it from the bleeding breast 



SPRING. 19 



the various Parts of Nature. 



Of the weak helpless uncomplaining wretch, 
Harsh pain and horror to the tender hand. 390 

When with his lively ray the potent sun 
Has pierc'd the streams, and rous'd the finny race, 
Then, issuing cheerful, to thy sport repair -> 
Chief should the western breezes curling play, 
And light o'er ether bear the shadowy clouds. 395 
High to their fount, this day, amid the hills, 
And woodlands warbling round, trace up the brooks; 
The next, pursue their rocky-channel'd maze, 
Down to the river, in whose ample wave 
Their little naiads love to sport at large. 400 

Just in the dubious point, where with the pool 
Is mix'd the trembling stream, or where it boils 
Around the stone, or from the hollow'd bank 
Reverted plays in undulating flow, 
There throw, nice-judging, the delusive fly ; 405 

And as you lead it round in artful curve, 
With eye attentive mark the springing game. 
Strait as above the surface of the flood 
They wanton rise, or urg'd by hunger leap, 
Then fix, with gentle twitch, the barbed hook : 410 
Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank, 
And to the shelving shore slow-dragging some, 
With various hand proportion^ to their force. 



20 SPRING. 



The Season described as it affect; 



If yet too young, and easily deceiv'd, 
A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod ; 415 
Him, piteous of his youth and the short space 
He has enjoy'd the vital light of Heaven, 
Soft disengage ; and back into the stream 
The speckled captive throw. But should you lure 
From his dark haunt, beneath the tangled roots 420 
Of pendent trees, the monarch of the brook, 
Behoves you then to ply your finest art. 
Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly ; 
And oft attempts to seize it, but as oft 
The dimpled water speaks his jealous fear. 425 

At last, while haply o'er the shaded sun 
Passes a cloud, he desperate takes the death, 
With sullen plunge. At once he darts along, 
Deep struck, and runs out all the lengthened line ; 
Then seeks the farthest ooze, the sheltering weed, 430 
The cavern'd bank, his old secure abode ; 
And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool, 
Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand, 
That feels him still, yet to his furious course 
Gives way, you, now retiring, following now 435 
Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage : 
Till floating broad upon his breathless side, 
And to his fate abandon'd, to the shore 






SPRING. 21 



the various Parts of Nature. 



You gaily drag your unresisting prize. 439 

Thus pass the temperate hours : but when the sun 
Shakes from his noon-day throne the scattering clouds, 
Even shooting listless languor thro' the deeps ; 
Then seek the bank where flowering elders crowd, 
Where scatter'd wild the lily of the vale 
Its balmy essence breathes, where cowslips hang 445 
The dewy head, where purple violets lurk, 
With all the lowly children of the shade : 
Or lie reclin'd beneath yon spreading ash, 
Hung o'er the steep ; whence, borne on liquid wing, 
The sounding culver shoots; or where the hawk, 450 
High, in the beetling cliff, his aerie builds. 
There let the classic page thy fancy lead 
Thro' rural scenes ; such as the Mantuan swain 
Paints in the matchless harmony of song. 
Or catch thyself the landskip, gliding swift 455 

Athwart imagination's vivid eye : 
Or by the vocal woods and waters lull'd, 
And lost in lonely musing, in the dream, 
Confus'd, of careless solitude, where mix 
Ten thousand wandering images of things, 460 

Soothe every gust of passion into peace ; 
All but the swellings of the softened heart, 
That waken, not disturb, the tranquil mind. 



22 SPRING. 



Influence of the Season on Vegetables. 

Behold yon breathing prospect bids the muse 
Throw all her beauty forth. But who can paint 465 
Like Nature ? Can imagination boast, 
Amid its gay creation, hues like her's ? 
Or can it mix them with that matchless skill, 
And lose them in each other, as appears 
In every bud that blows ? If fancy then 470 

Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task, 
Ah what shall language do ? ah where find words 
Ting'd with so many colours ; and whose power, 
To life approaching, may perfume my lays 
With that fine oil, those aromatic gales, 475 

That inexhaustive flow continual round ? 

Yet, tho* successless, will the toil delight. 
Come then, ye virgins and ye youths, whose hearts 
Have felt the raptures of refining love ; 
And thou, Amanda, come, pride of my song ! 480 
Form'd by the Graces, loveliness itself ! 
Come with those downcast eyes, sedate and sweet, 
Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the soul, 
Where, with the light of thoughtful reason mix'd, 
Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart : 485 

Oh come ! and while the rosy-footed May 
Steals blushing on, together let us tread 
The morning-dews, and gather in their prime 



SPRING. 23 



Influence of the Season on Vegetables. 

Fresh-blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair, 
And thy lov'd bosom that improves their sweets. 490 

See, where the winding vale its lavish stores, 
Irriguous, spreads. See, how the lily drinks 
The latent rill, scarce oozing thro' the grass, 
Of growth luxuriant ; or the humid bank, 
In fair profusion decks. Long let us walk, 495 

Where the breeze blows from yon extended field 
Of blossom'd beans. Arabia cannot boast 
A fuller gale of joy, than, liberal, thence 
Breathes thro* the sense, and takes the ravish'd soul. 
Nor is the mead unworthy of thy foot, 500 

Full of fresh verdure, and unnumber'd flowers, 
The negligence of Nature, wide, and wild ; 
Where, undisguis'd by mimic Art, she spreads 
Unbounded beauty to the roving eye. 
Here their delicious task the fervent bees, 505 

In swarming millions, tend : around, athwart, 
Thro' the soft air, the busy nations fly ; 
Cling to the. bud, and, with inserted tube, 
Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul ; 
And oft, with bolder wing, they soaring dare 510 
The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows, 
And yellow load them with the luscious spoil. 

At length the finish'd garden to the view 



24 SPRING 



Influence of the Season on Vegetables. 

Its vistas opens, and its alleys green. 
Snatch'd thro' the verdant maze, the hurried eye 515 
Distracted wanders ; now the bowery walk 
Of covert close, where scarce a speck of day 
Falls on the lengthened gloom, protracted sweeps : 
Now meets the bending sky ; the river now 
Dimpling along, the breezy ruffled lake, 520 

The forest darkening round, the glittering spire, 
Th' ethereal mountain, and the distant main. 
But why so far excursive ? when at hand, 
Along these blushing borders, bright with dew, 
And in yon mingled wilderness of flowers, 525 

Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace ; 
Throws out the snow-drop, and the crocus first ; 
The daisy, primrose, violet darkly blue, 
And polyanthus of unnumber'd dies ; 
The yellow wall-flower, stain'd with iron brown; 530 
And lavish stock that scents the garden round : 
From the soft wing of vernal breezes shed, 
Anemonies ; auriculas, enrich 'd 
With shining meal o'er all their velvet leaves ; 
And full ranunculas, of glowing red. 535 

Then comes the tulip-race, where Beauty plays 
Her idle freaks ; from family dirfus'd 
To family, as flies the father-dust, 






SPRING. 25 



Influence of the Season on Vegetables. 



The varied colours run ; and while they break 

On the charm'd eye, th' exulting florist marks, 540 

With secret pride, the wonders of his hand. 

No gradual bloom is wanting ; from the bud, 

First-born of Spring, to Summer's musky tribes : 

Nor hyacinths, of purest virgin white, 

Low-bent, and blushing inward ; nor jonquils, 545 

Of potent fragrance ; nor Narcissus fair, 

As o'er the fabled fountain hanging still ; 

Nor broad carnations, nor gay-spotted pinks ; 

Nor, shower'd from every bush, the damask-rose. 

Infinite numbers, delicacies, smells, 550 

With hues on hues expression cannot paint, 

The breath of Nature, and her endless bloom. 

Hail, Source of Being ! Universal Soul 
Of heaven and earth ! Essential Presence, hail ! 
To Thee I bend the knee; to Thee my thoughts, 555 
Continual, climb ; who, with a master-hand, 
Hast the great whole into perfection touch'd. 
By Thee the various vegetative tribes, 
Wrapt in a filmy net, and clad with leaves, 
Draw the live ether, and imbibe the dew : 560 

By Thee dispos'd into congenial soils, 
Stands each attractive plant, and sucks, and swells 
The juicy tide ; a twining mass of tubes. 



26 SPRING. 



Influence of the Season on Animals. 



At Thy command the vernal sun awakes 

The torpid sap, detruded to the root 565 

By wintry winds ; that now in fluent dance, 

And lively fermentation, mounting, spreads 

All this innumerous-colour'd scene of things. 

As rising from the vegetable world 
My theme ascends, with equal wing ascend 570 

My panting Muse ! and hark, how loud the woods 
Invite you forth in all your gayest trim. 
Lend me your song, ye nightingales ! oh pour 
The mazy-running soul of melody 
Into my varied verse; while I deduce, 575 

From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings, 
The symphony of Spring ; and touch a theme 
Unknown to fame, the passion of the groves. 

When first the soul of love is sent abroad, 
Warm thro' the vital air, and on the heart 580 

Harmonious seizes ; the gay troops begin, 
In gallant thought, to plume the painted wing ; 
And try again the long-forgotten strain, 
At first faint-warbled. But no sooner grows 
The soft infusion prevalent, and wide, 585 

Than, all alive, at once their joy o'erflows 
In music unconfin'd. Up-springs the lark, 
ShruTd-voic'd, and loud, the messenger of morn i 



SPRING. 27 



Influence of the Season on Animals. 



Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings 

Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts 590 

Calls up the tuneful nations. Every copse 

Deep-tangled, tree irregular, and bush 

Bending with dewy moisture, o'er the heads 

Of the coy quiristers that lodge within, 

Are prodigal of harmony. The thrush, 595 

And wood-lark, o'er the kind-contending throng 

Superior heard, run thro' the sweetest length 

Of notes ; when listening Philomela deigns 

To let them joy, and purposes, in thought 

Elate, to make her night excel their day. 600 

The black-bird whistles from the thorny brake ; 

The mellow bullfinch answers from the grove : 

Nor are the linnets, o'er the flowering furze 

Pour'd out profusely silent. Join'd to these, 

Innumerous songsters, in the freshening shade 605 

Of new-sprung leaves, their modulation mix 

Mellifluous. The jay, the rook, the daw, 

And each harsh pipe, discordant heard alone, 

Aid the full concert : while the stock-dove breathes 

A melancholy murmur thro' the whole. 610 

'Tis love creates their melody, and all 
This waste of music is the voice of love •> 
That ev'n to birds, and beasts, the tender arts 



28 SPRING. 



Influence of the Season on Animals. 



Of pleasing teaches. Hence the glossy kind 
Try every winning way inventive love 615 

Can dictate ; and in courtship to their mates 
Pour forth their little souls. First, wide around, 
With distant awe, in airy rings they rove ; 
Endeavouring by a thousand tricks to catch 
The cunning, conscious, half-averted glance 
Of their regardless charmer. Should she seem 
Softening the least approvance to bestow, 
* Their colours burnish, and by hope inspir'd, 
They brisk advance ; then on a sudden struck, 
Retire disorder'd ; then again approach ; 625 

In fond rotation spread the spotted wing, 
And shiver every feather with desire. 

Connubial leagues agreed, to the deep woods 
They haste away, all as their fancy leads, 
Pleasure, or food, or secret safety prompts ; 630 

That Nature's great command may be obey'd : 
Nor all the sweet sensations they perceive 
Indulg'd in vain. Some to the holly-hedge 
Nestling repair, and to the thicket some ; 
Some to the rude protection of the thorn 635 

Commit their feeble offspring : the cleft tree 
Offers its kind concealment to a few ; 
Their food its insects, and its moss their nests. 



SPRING. 29 



Influence of the Season en Animals. 



Others apart far in the grassy dale, 

Or roughening waste, their humble texture weave. 640 

But most in woodland solitudes delight ; 

In unfrequented glooms, or shaggy banks, 

Steep, and divided by a babbling brook, 

Whose murmurs soothe them all the live-long day, 

When by kind duty fix'd. Among the roots 645 

Of hazel, pendent o'er the plaintive stream, 

They frame the first foundation of their domes ; 

Dry sprigs of trees, in artful fabric laid, 

And bound with clay together. Now 't is nought 

But restless hurry thro' the busy air, 650 

Beat by unnumber'd wings. The swallow sweeps 

The slimy pool, to build his hanging house 

Intent. And often, from the careless back 

Of herds and flocks, a thousand tugging bills 

Pluck hair and wool ; and oft, when unobserv'd, 655 

Steal from the barn a straw : till soft and warm, 

Clean, and complete, their habitation grows. 

As thus the patient dam assiduous sits, 
Not to be tempted from her tender task, 
Or by sharp hunger, or by smooth delight, 660 

Tho' the whole loosened Spring around her blows ; 
Her sympathizing lover takes his stand 
High on th' opponent bank, and ceaseless sings 



30 SPRING. 



Influence of the Season on Animals. 



The tedious time away ; or else supplies 

Her place a moment, while she sudden flits 665 

To pick the scanty meal. Th' appointed time 

With pious toil fulfilPd, the callow young, 

Warm'd and expanded into perfect life, 

Their brittle bondage break ; and come to light, 

A helpless family demanding food 670 

With constant clamour. O what passions then, 

What melting sentiments of kindly care, 

On the new parents seize ! away they fly 

Affectionate, and undesiring bear 

The most delicious morsel to their young ; 675 

Which equally distributed, again 

The search begins. Even so a gentle pair, 

By fortune sunk, but form'd of generous mould, 

And charm'd with cares beyond the vulgar breast ; 

In some lone cot amid the distant woods, 680 

Sustain'd alone by providential Heaven ; 

Oft as they weeping eye their infant train, 

Check their own appetites, and give them all. 

Nor toil alone they scorn : exalting love, 
By the great father of the spring inspir'd, 685 
Gives instant courage to the fearful race, 
And to the simple, art. With stealthy wing, 
Should some rude foot their woody haunts molest, 



SPRING. 31 



Influence of the Season on Animals. 



Amid a neighbouring bush they silent drop, 

And whirring thence, as if alarm'd, deceive 690 

Th' unfeeling school-boy. Hence, around the head 

Of wandering swain, the white-wing'd plover wheels 

Her sounding flight ; and then directly on 

In long excursion skims the level lawn, 

To tempt him from her nest. The wild-duck, hence, 

O'er the rough moss, and o'er the trackless waste 696 

The heath-hen flutters, pious fraud ! to lead 

The hot-pursuing spaniel far astray. 

Be not the Muse asham'd, here to bemoan 
Her brothers of the grove, by tyrant Man 700 

Inhuman caught, and in the narrow cage 
From liberty confin'd, and boundless air. 
Dull are the pretty slaves, their plumage dull, 
Ragged, and all its brightening lustre lost ; 
Nor is that sprightly wildness in their notes, 705 

Which, clear and vigorous, warbles from the beech. 
Oh then, ye friends of love and love-taught song, 
Spare the soft tribes, this barbarous art forbear ; 
If on your bosom innocence can win, 
Music engage, or piety persuade. 710 

But let not chief the nightingale lament 
Her ruin'd care, too delicately fram'd 
To brook the harsh confinement of the cage. 



32 SPRING. 



Influence of the Season on Animals. 



Oft when, returning with her loaded bill, 
Th' astonish'd mother finds a vacant nest, 715 

By the hard hand of unrelenting clowns 
Robb'd, to the ground the vain provision falls ; 
Her pinions ruffle, and low-drooping scarce 
Can bear the mourner to the poplar shade ; 
Where, all abandon'd to despair, she sings 720 

Her sorrows thro* the night ; and, on the bough, 
Sole-sitting, still at every dying fall 
Takes up again her lamentable strain 
Of winding woe ; till wide around the woods 
Sigh to her song, and with her wail resound. 725 

But now the feather'd youth their former bounds, 
Ardent, disdain ; and weighing oft their wings, 
Demand the free possession of the sky : 
This one glad office more, and then dissolves 
Parental love at once, now needless grown. 730 

Unlavish Wisdom never works in vain. 
'Tis on some evening, sunny, grateful, mild, 
When nought but balm is breathing thro* the woods, 
With yellow lustre bright, that the new tribes 
Visit the spacious heavens, and look abroad 735 

On Nature's common, far as they can see, 
Or wing, their range and pasture. O'er the boughs 
Dancing about, still at the giddy verge 



SPRING. 



Influence of the Season on Animals. 



Their resolution fails ; their pinions still, 

In loose libration stretch'd, to trust the void 740 

Trembling refuse : till down before them fly 

The parent-guides, and chide, exhort, command, 

Or push them off* The surging air receives 

Its plumy burden ; and their self-taught wings 

Winnow the waving element. On ground 745 

Alighted, bolder up again they lead, 

Farther and farther on, the lengthening flight; 

'Till vanish'd every fear, and every power 

Rous'd into life and action, light in air 

TrT acquitted parents see their soaring race, 750 

And once rejoicing never know them more. 

High from the summit of a craggy cliff, 
Hung o'er the deep, such as amazing frowns 
On utmost Kilda's shore ; whose lonely race 
Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds; 755 

The royal eagle draws his vigorous young, 
Strong-pounc'd, and ardent with paternal fire ; 
Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own, 
He drives them from his fort, the towering seat, 
For ages, of his empire ; which, in peace, 760 

Unstain'd he holds, while many a league to sea 
He wings his course, and preys in distant isles. 

Should I my steps turn to the rural seat, 

i> 



34 SPRING. 



Influence of the Season on Animals. 




Whose lofty elms, and venerable oaks, 
Invite the rook ; who high amid the boughs, 765 

In early Spring, his airy city builds, 
4ind ceaseless caws amusive ; there, well-pleas'd, 
I might the various polity survey 
Of the mix'd household kind. The careful hen 
Calls all her chirping family around, 770 

Fed and defended by the fearless cock ; 
Whose breast with ardour flames, as on he walks 
Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond, 
The finely-checker'd duck before her train, 
Rows garrulous. The stately-sailing swan 
Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale ; 
And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet 
Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier-isle, 
Protective of his young. The turkey nigh, 
Loud-threatening,reddens; while the peacock spreads 
His every-colour'd glory to the sun, 781 

And swims in radiant majesty along. 
O'er the whole homely scene, the cooing dove 
rv Flies thick in amorous chase, and wanton rolls 

The glancing eye, and turns the changeful neck. 785 

While thus the gentle tenants of the shade 
Indulge their purer loves, the rougher world 
Of brutes, below, rush furious into flame, 



SPRING. 35 



Influence of the Season on Animals. 



And fierce desire. Thro* all his lusty veins 

The bull, deep-scorch'd, the raging passion feels. 790 

Of pasture sick, and negligent of food, 

Scarce seen, he wades among the yellow broom, 

While o'er his ample sides the rambling sprays 

Luxuriant shoot ; or thro* the mazy wood 

Dejected wanders ; nor th' inticing bud 795 

Crops, tho' it presses on his careless sense. 

And oft, in jealous mad'ning fancy wrapt, 

He seeks the fight ; and, idly-butting, feigns 

His rival gor'd in every knotty trunk. 

Him should he meet, the bellowing war begins : 800 

Their eyes flash fury ; to the hollow'd earth, 

Whence the sand flies, they mutter bloody deeds, 

And groaning deep, th' impetuous battle mix : 

While the fair heifer, balmy-breathing, near, 

Stands kindling up their rage. The trembling steed, 

With this hot impulse seiz'd in every nerve, 806 

Nor heeds the rein, nor hears the sounding thong : 

Blows are not felt ; but tossing high his head, 

And by the well-known joy to distant plains 

Attracted strong, all wild he bursts away \ 810 

O'er rocks, and woods, and craggy mountains flies ; 

And, neighing, on the aerial summit takes 

Th' exciting gale ; then, steep-descending, cleaves 



36 SPRING, 



Influence of the Season on Animals. 






The headlong torrents foaming down the hills, 
Even where the madness of the straiten'd stream 8 1 5 
Turns in black eddies round ; such is the force 
With which his frantic heart and sinews swell. 

Nor undelighted by the boundless Spring 
Are the broad monsters of the foaming deep : 
From the deep ooze and gelid cavern rous'd, 820 
They flounce and tumble in unwieldy joy. 
Dire were the strain, and dissonant, to sing 
The cruel raptures of the savage kind : 
How by this flame their native wrath sublim'd, 
They roam, amid the fury of their heart, 825 

The far-resounding waste in fiercer bands, 
And growl their horrid loves. But this the theme 
I sing, enraptur'd, to the British Fair, 
Forbids, and leads me to the mountain-brow, 
Where sits the shepherd on the grassy turf, 830 

Inhaling, healthful, the descending sun. 
Around him feeds his many-bleating flock, 
Of various cadence ; and his sportive lambs, 
This way and that convolv'd, in friskful glee, 
Their frolics play. And now the sprightly race 835 
Invites them forth ; when swift, the signal given, 
They start away, and sweep the massy mound 
That runs around the hill ; the rampart once 



SPRING. 37 



Influence of the Season on Animals. 



Of iron war, in ancient barbarous times, 

When disunited Britain ever bled, 840 

Lost in eternal broil : ere yet she grew 

To this deep-laid indissoluble state, 

Where Wealth and Commerce lift their golden heads ; 

And o'er our labours, Liberty and Law, 

Impartial, watch ; the wonder of a world ! 845 

What is this mighty Breath, ye sages, say, 
That, in a powerful language, felt not heard, 
Instructs the fowls of heaven ! and thro* their breast 
These arts of love diffuses ? What, but God ? 
Inspiring God ! who boundless Spirit all, 850 

And unremitting Energy, pervades, 
Adjusts, sustains, and agitates the whole. 
He ceaseless works alone ; and yet alone 
Seems not to work : with such perfection fram'd 
Is this complex stupendous scheme of things. 855 

But, thp' conceal'd, to every purer eye 
Th' informing Author in his Works appears : 
Chief, lovely Spring ! in thee, and thy soft scenes, 
The Smiling God is seen ; while water, earth, 
And air attest his bounty ; which exalts 860 

The brute creation to this finer thought, 
And annual melts their undesigning hearts 
Profusely thus in tenderness and joy. 



38 SPRING. 



Effects on Man. 



Still let my song a nobler note assume, 
And sing th' infusive force of Spring on Man ; 865 
When heaven and earth, as if contending, vie 
To raise his being, and serene his soul. 
Can he forbear to join the general smile 
Of Nature ? Can fierce passions vex his breast, 
While every gale is peace, and every grove 870 

Is melody ? Hence ! from the bounteous walks 
Of flowing Spring, ye sordid sons of earth, 
Hard, and unfeeling of another's woe ; 
Or only lavish to yourselves ; away ! 
But come, ye generous minds, in whose wide thought, 
Of all his works, Creative Bounty burns 876 

With warmest beam ; and on your open front 
And liberal eye, sits, from his dark retreat 
Inviting modest want. Nor, till invok'd, 
Can restless goodness wait ; your active search 880 
Leaves no cold wintry corner unexplor'd ; 
Like silent-working Heaven, surprising oft 
The lonely heart with unexpected good. 

For you, the roving spirit of the wind 
Blows Spring abroad; for you, the teeming clouds 885 
Descend in gladsome plenty o'er the world ; 
And the sun sheds his kindest rays for you, 
Ye flower of human race ! In these green days, 



SPRING. 39 



Beauties of Hagley. 



Reviving Sickness lifts her languid head ; 

Life flows afresh ; and young-ey'd Health exalts 890 

The whole creation round. Contentment walks 

The sunny glade, and feels an inward bliss 

Spring o'er his mind, beyond the power of kings 

To purchase. Pure serenity apace 

Induces thought, and contemplation still. 895 

By swift degrees the love of Nature works, 

And warms the bosom ; till at last sublim'd 

To rapture, and enthusiastic heat, 

We feel the present Deity, and taste 

The joy of God to see a happy world ! 900 

These are the sacred feelings of thy heart, 
Thy heart inform'd by reason's purer ray, 
O Lyttelton, the friend ! thy passions thus 
And meditations vary, as at large, 
Courting the Muse, thro' Hagley Park thou stray'st; 
Thy British Tempe ! There along the dale, 906 

With woods o'erhung, and shagg'd with mossy rocks, 
Whence on each hand the gushing waters play ; 
And down the rough cascade white-dashing fall, 
Or gleam in lengthened vista thro' the trees, 910 

You silent steal ; or sit beneath the shade 
Of solemn oaks, that tuft the swelling mounts 
Thrown graceful round by Nature's careless hand, 



40 SPRING. 



Beauties of Hagley. 



And pensive listen to the various voice 

Of rural peace: the herds, and flocks, the birds, 915 

The hollow-whispering breeze, the plaint of rills, 

That, purling down amid the twisted roots 

Which creep around, their dewy murmurs shake 

On the sooth'd ear. From these abstracted, oft 

You wander thro' the philosophic world ; 920 

Where in bright train continual wonders rise, 

Or to the curious or the pious eye. 

And oft, conducted by historic truth, 

You tread the long extent of backward time ; 

Planning, with warm benevolence of mind, 925 

And honest zeal unwarp'd by party-rage, 

Britannia's weal ; how from the venal gulph 

To raise her virtue, and her arts revive. 

Or, turning thence thy view, these graver thoughts 

The Muses charm: while, with sure taste refin'd, 930 

You draw th' inspiring breath of ancient song ; 

'Till nobly rises, emulous, thy own. 

Perhaps thy lov'd Lucinda shares thy walk, 
With soul to thine attun'd. Then Nature all 
W T ears to the lover's eye a look of love ; 935 

And all the tumult of a guilty world, 
Tost by ungenerous passions, sinks away. 
The tender heart is animated peace ; 



SPRING. 41 



Advice to the young Fair. 



And as it pours its copious treasures forth, 

In varied converse, softening every theme, 940 

You, frequent-pausing, turn, an'J from her eyes, 

Where meekened sense, and amiable grace, 

And lively sweetness dwell, enraptured, drink 

That nameless spirit of ethereal joy, 

Unutterable happiness ! which love, 945 

Alone, bestows, and on a favour'd few. 

Meantime you gain the height, from whose fair brow 

The bursting prospect spreads immense around ; 

And snatch'd o'er hill and dale, and wood and lawn, 

And verdant field, and darkening heath between, 950 

And villages embosom'd soft in trees, 

And spiry towns by surging columns mark'd 

Of household smoke, your eye excursive roams : 

Wide-stretching from the Hall, in whose kind haunt 

The hospitable Genius lingers still, 955 

To where the broken landskip, by degrees, 

Ascending, roughens into rigid hills; 

O'er which the Cambrian mountains, like far clouds 

That skirt the blue horizon, dusky rise. 

Flush'd by the spirit of the genial year, 960 

Now from the Virgin's cheek a fresher bloom 
Shoots, less and less, the live carnation round ;■ 
Her lips blush deeper sweets ; she breathes of youth; 



42 SPRING. 



Advice to young Men respecting Love. 

The shining moisture swells into her eyes, 

In brighter flow ; her wishing bosom heaves, 965 

With palpitations wild 5 kind tumults seize 

Her veins, and all her yielding soul is love. 

From the keen gaze her lover turns away, 

Full of the dear ecstatic power, and sick 

With sighing languishment. Ah then, ye fair ! 970 

Be greatly cautious of your sliding hearts: 

Dare not th* infectious sigh ; the pleading look, 

Downcast, and low, in meek submission drest, 

But full of guile. Let not the fervent tongue, 

Prompt to deceive, with adulation smooth, 975 

Gain on your purpos'd will. Nor in the bower, 

Where woodbines flaunt, and roses shed a couch, 

While evening draws her crimson curtains round, 

Trust your soft minutes with betraying Man. 

And let th' aspiring youth beware of love, 930 
Of the smooth glance beware ; for 't is too late, 
When on his heart the torrent-softness pours ; 
Then wisdom prostrate lies, and fading fame 
Dissolves in air away ; while the fond soul, 
Wrapt in gay visions of unreal bliss, 985 

Still paints th' illusive form ; the kindling grace ; 
Th* inticing ©mile ; the modest-seeming eye, 
Beneath whose beauteous beams, belying Heaven, 



SPRING. 



A Lover described. 



Lurk searchless cunning, cruelty, and death : 
And still, false- warbling in his cheated ear, 990 

Her syren voice, enchanting, draws him on 
To guileful shores, and meads of fatal joy. 

Even present, in the very lap of love 
Inglorious laid ; while music flows around, 
Perfumes, and oils, and wine, and wanton hours ; 
Amid the roses fierce Repentance rears 996 

Her snaky crest : a quick-returning pang 
Shoots thro* the conscious heart ; where honour still, 
And great design, against th' oppressive load 
Of luxury, by fits, impatient heave. 1000 

Bur absent, what fantastic woes arous'd, 
Rage in each thought, by restless musing fed, 
Chill the warm cheek, and blast the bloom of life ! 
Neglected fortune flies ; and sliding swift, 
Prone into ruin, fall his scorn'd affairs. 1005 

'lis nought but gloom around : the darkened sun 
Loses his light : the rosy-bosom'd Spring 
To weeping fancy pines ; and yon bright arch. 
Contracted, bends into a dusky vault. 
All Nature fades extinct ; and she alone 1010 

Heard, felt, and seen, possesses every thought, 
Fills every sense, and pants in every vein. 

Books are but formal dulness, tedious friends ; 



44 SPRING. 



A Lover described. 



And sad amid the social band he sits, 

Lonely, and unattentive. From his tongue 1015 

Th' unfinish'd period falls : while borne away 

On swelling thought, his wafted spirit flies 

To the vain bosom of his distant fair ; 

And leaves the semblance of a lover, fix'd 

In melancholy site, with head declin'd, 1020 

And love-dejected eyes. Sudden he starts, 

Shook from his tender trance, and restless runs 

To glimmering shades, and sympathetic glooms ; 

Where the dun umbrage o'er the falling stream, 

Romantic, hangs ; there thro' the pensive dusk 1025 

Strays, in heart-thrilling meditation lost, 

Indulging all to love : or on the bank 

Thrown, amid drooping lilies, swells the breeze 

With sighs unceasing, and the brook with tears. 

Thus in soft anguish he consumes the day, 1030 
Nor quits his deep retirement, till the Moon 
Peeps thro* the chambers of the fleecy East, 
Enlightened by degrees, and in her train 
Leads on the gentle hours ; then forth he walks, 
Beneath the trembling languish of her beam, 1035 
With softened soul, and wooes the bird of eve 
To mingle woes with his : or, while the world 
And all the sons of Care lie hush'd in sleep, 



y 



SPRING. 45 



A lx>ver described. 



Associates with the midnight shadows drear ; 

And, sighing to the lonely taper, pours 1040 

His idly-tortur'd heart into the page, 

Meant for the moving messenger of love ; 

Where rapture burns on rapture, every line 

With rising frenzy nYd. But if on bed 

Delirious flung, sleep from his pillow flies. 1045 

All night he tosses, nor the balmy power 

In any posture finds ; till the grey morn 

Lifts her pale lustre on the paler wretch, 

Exanimate by love : and then perhaps 

Exhausted Nature sinks awhile to rest, 1050 

Still interrupted by distracted dreams, 

That o'er the sick imagination rise, 

And in black colours paint the mimic scene. 

Oft with th* enchantress of his soul he talks ; 
Sometimes in crowds distress'd ; or if retir'd 1055 
To secret winding flower-enwoven bowers, 
Far from the dull impertinence of Man ; 
Just as he, credulous, his endless cares 
Begins to lose in blind oblivious love, 
Snatch'd from her yielded hand, he knows not how, 
Thro* forests huge, and long untravel'd heaths 1061 
With desolation brown, he wanders waste, 
In night and tempest wrapt ; or shrinks aghast, 



46 SPRING. 



Effects of Jealousy in Youth. 



Back, from the bending precipice ; or wades 

The turbid stream below, and strives to reach 1065 

The farther shore ; where succourless and sad, 

She with extended arms his aid implores ; 

But strives in vain ; borne by th' outrageous flood 

To distance down, he rides the ridgy wave, 

Or whelm'd beneath the boiling eddy sinks. 1070 

These are the charming agonies of love, 
Whose misery delights. But thro' the heart 
Should jealousy its venom once diffuse, 
'Tis then delightful misery no more ; 
But agony unmix'd, incessant gall, 1075 

Corroding every thought, and blasting all 
Love's paradise. Ye fairy prospects, then, 
Ye beds of roses, and ye bowers of joy, 
Farewell ! Ye gleamings of departed peace, 
Shine out your last ! the yellow-tinging plague 1080 
Internal vision taints, and in a night 
Of livid gloom imagination wraps. 
Ah then, instead of love-enlivened cheeks, 
Of sunny features, and of ardent eyes 
With flowing rapture bright, dark looks succeed, 108 5 
Suffus'd and glaring with untender fire ; 
A clouded aspect, and a burning cheek, 
Where the whole poison'd soul, malignant, sits, 



SPRING. 47 



True Pleasures of Marriage. 



And frightens love away. Ten thousand fears 

Invented wild, ten thousand frantic views 1090 

Of horrid rivals, hanging on the charms 

For which he melts in fondness, eat him up 

With fervent anguish, and consuming rage. 

In vain reproaches lend their idle aid, 

Deceitful pride, and resolution frail, 1095 

Giving false peace a moment. Fancy pours, 

Afresh, her beauties on his busy thought, 

Her first endearments twining round the soul, 

With all the witchcraft of ensnaring love. 

Straight the fierce storm involves his mind anew, 1 100 

Flames thro' the nerves, and boils along the veins ; 

While anxious doubt distracts the tOrtur'd heart : 

For ev ri the sad assurance of his fears 

Were ease to what he feels. Thus the warm youth, 

Whom love deludes into his thorny wilds, 1 105 

Thro' flowery-tempting paths, or leads a life 

Of fevered rapture, or of cruel care ; 

His brightest flames extinguished all, and all 

His lively moments running down to waste. 

But happy they ! the happiest of their kind ! 1110 
Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate, 
Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. 
'Tis not the coarser tie of human laws, 



48 SPRING. 



True Pleasures of Marriage. 



Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind, 

That binds their peace, but harmony itself, 1115 

Attuning all their passions into love ; 

Where friendship full-exerts her softest power, 

Perfect esteem enlivened by desire 

Ineffable, and sympathy of soul ; 

Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will, 

With boundless confidence: for nought but love 1121 

Can answer love, and render bliss secure. 

Let him, ungenerous, who, alone intent 
To bless himself, from sordid parents buys 
The loathing virgin, in eternal care, 1 125 

Well-merited, consume his nights and days ; 
Let barbarous nations, whose inhuman love 1 
Is wild desire, fierce as the suns they feel ; 
Let Eastern tyrants, from the light of Heaven 
Seclude their bosom-slaves, meanly possess'd 1130 
Of a mere lifeless, violated form ; 
While those whom love cements in holy faith, 
And equal transport, free as Nature live, 
Disdaining fear. What is the world to them ? 
Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all ? 1135 
W r ho in each other clasp whatever fair 
High fancy forms, and lavish hearts can wish ; 
Something than beauty dearer, should they look 



SPRING. 49 



Delights from a rising Offspring. 



Or on the mind, or mind-illumin'd face ; 

Truth, goodness, honour, harmony, and love, 1140 

The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven. 

Meantime a smiling offspring rises round, 

And mingles both their graces. By degrees, 

The human blossom blows ; and every day, 

Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charm, 1 145 

The father's lustre, and the mother's bloom. 

Then infant reason grows apace, and calls 

For the kind hand of an assiduous care. 

Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought, 
To teach the young idea how to shoot, 1150 

To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, 
To breathe th' enlivening spirit, and to fix 
The generous purpose in the glowing breast. 
Oh speak the joy ! ye, whom the sudden tear 
Surprises often, while you look around, 1155 

And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss, 
All various Nature pressing on the heart ; 
An elegant sufficiency, content, 
Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, 
Ease and alternate labour, useful life, 1 160 

Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven. 

These are the matchless joys of virtuous love ; 
And thus their moments fly. The Seasons thus, 

E 



50 SPRING. 



Delights from a rising Offspring. 



As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll, 

Still find them happy; and consenting Spring 1165 

Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads : 

Till evening comes at last, serene and mild ; 

When after the long vernal day of life, 

Enamour'd more, as more remembrance swells 

With many a proof of recollected love, 1170 

Together down they sink in social sleep ; 

Together freed, their gentle spirits fly 

To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign. 



SUMMER. 



THE ARGUMENT. 



The subject proposed. Invocation. Address to Mr. Dodington. An in- 
troductory reflection on the motion of the heavenly bodies ; whence the 
succession of the seasons. As the face of Nature in this season is almost 
uniform, the progress of the poem is a description of a summer's day. 
The dawn. Sun-rising. Hymn to the Sun. Forenoon. Summer in- 
sects described. Hay-making. Sheep-shearing. Noon-day. A wood- 
land retreat. Group of herds and flocks. A solemn grove : how it affects 
a contemplative mind. A cataract, and rude scene. View of Summer 
in the torrid zone. Storm of thunder and lightning. A tale. The storm 
over, a serene afternoon. Bathing. Hour of walking. Transition to the 
prospect of a rich well-cultivated country ; which introduces a panegyric 
on Great Britain. Sun-set. Evening. Night. Summer meteors. A 
comet. The whole concluding with the praise of philosophy. 







MlTSIBORA, 






.j ,,/./,/// y/.//v/ <"■ 



BOOK II 



Inscribed to Mr. Dodington. 



rROM brightening fields of ether fair disclos'd, 
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes, 
In pride of youth, and felt thro* Nature's depth. 
He comes attended by the sultry Hours, 
And ever-fanning Breezes, on his way ; 5 

While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring 
Averts her blushful face ; and earth, and skies, 
All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves. 

Hence, let me haste into the mid-wood shade, 
Where scarce a sun-beam wanders thro' the gloom; 10 
And on the dark-green grass, beside the brink 
Of haunted stream, that by the roots of oak 
Rolls o'er the rocky channel, lie at large, 
And sing the glories of the circling year. 



54 SUMMER. 



Inscribed to Mr. Dodington. 



Come, Inspiration ! from thy hermit-seat, 15 

By mortal seldom found : may Fancy dare, 
From thy fix'd serious eye, and raptur'd glance 
Shot on surrounding Heaven, to steal one look 
Creative of the Poet, every power 
Exalting to an ecstacy of soul. 20 

And thou, my youthful Muse's early friend, 
In whom the human graces all unite : 
Pure light of mind, and tenderness of heart; 
Genius, and wisdom ; the gay social sense, 
By decency chastis'd ; goodness and wit, 25 

In seldom-meeting harmony combined ; 
Unblemish'd honour, and an active zeal 
For Britain's glory, Liberty, and Man : 
O Dodington ! attend my rural song, 
Stoop to my theme, inspirit every line, 30 

And teach me to deserve thy just applause. 

With what an awful world-revolving power 
Were first the unwieldy planets launch'd along 
Th' illimitable void ! Thus to remain, 
Amid the flux of many thousand years, 35 

That oft has swept the toiling race of Men, 
And all their labour'd monuments away, 
Firm, unremitting, matchless, in their course ; 
To the kind-temper'd change of night and day, 



SUMMER. 55 



Inscribed to Mr. Dodington. 



And of the Seasons ever stealing round, 40 

Minutely faithful: such th' all-perfect Hand! 
That pois'd, impels, and rules the steady whole. 

When now no more th* alternate Twins are fiYd, 
And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze, 
Short is the doubtful empire of the night ; 45 

And soon, observant of approaching day, 
The meek-ey'd Morn appears, mother of dews, 
At first faint-gleaming in the dappled East : 
Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow ; 
And, from before the lustre of her face, 50 

White break the clouds away. With quickened step, 
Brown Night retires : young Day pours in apace, 
And opens all the lawny prospect wide. 
The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top, 
Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn. 55 
Blue, thro* the dusk, the smoking currents shine ; 
And from the bladed field the fearful hare 
Limps, awkward : while along the forest glade 
The wild deer trip, and often turning gaze 
At early passenger. Music awakes 60 

The native voice of undissembled joy ; 
And thick around the woodland hymns arise. 
Rous'd by the cock, the soon-clad shepherd leaves 
His mossy cottage, where with Peace he dwells -> 



56 SUMMER 



The Benefit of early rising. 



And from the crowded fold, in order, drives 65 

His flock, to taste the verdure of the morn. 

Falsely luxurious, will not Man awake ; 
And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy 
The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, 
To meditation due and sacred song ? 70 

For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise ? 
To lie in dead oblivion, losing half 
The fleeting moments of too short a life ; 
Total extinction of th' enlightened soul ! 
Or else to feverish vanity alive, 75 

Wilder'd, and tossing thro' distemper'd dreams ; 
Who would in such a gloomy state remain 
Longer than Nature craves ; when every Muse 
And every blooming pleasure wait without, 
To bless the wildly-devious morning walk ? 80 

But yonder comes the powerful King of Day, 
Rejoicing in the East. The lessening cloud, 
The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow 
Illum'd with fluid gold, his near approach 
Betoken glad. Lo ! now, apparent all, 85 

Aslant the dew-bright earth, and colour'd air, 
He looks in boundless majesty abroad ; 
And sheds the shining day, that burnish'd plays 
On rocks, and hills, and tow'rs, and wand 'ring streams, 



SUMMER. 57 



Address to the Sun. — Its Power on Vegetables. 

High-gleaming from afar. Prime cheerer Light ! 90 

Of all material beings first, and best ! 

Efflux divine ! Nature's resplendent robe ! 

Without whose vesting beauty all were wrapt 

In unessential gloom ; and thou, O Sun ! 

Soul of surrounding worlds ! in whom best seen 95 

Shines out thy Maker ! may I sing of thee ? 

'Trs by thy secret, strong, attractive force, 
As with a chain indissoluble bound, 
Thy System rolls entire : from the far bourne 
Of utmost Saturn, wheeling wide his round 100 

Of thirty years ; to Mercury, whose disk 
Can scarce be caught by philosophic eye, 
Lost in the near effulgence of thy blaze. 

Informer of the planetary train ! 
Without whose quickening glance their cumbrous orbs 
Were brute unlovely mass, inert and dead ; 106 

And not, as now, the green abodes of life ! 
How many forms of being wait on thee, 
Inhaling spirit ! from th' unfetter'd mind, 
By thee sublim'd, down to the daily race, 110 

The mixing myriads of thy setting beam. 

The vegetable world is also thine, 
Parent of Seasons ! who the pomp precede 
That waits thy throne ; as thro' thy vast domain, 



58 SUMMER. 



The Sun's Power on Vegetables and Minerals. 



Annual, along the bright ecliptic road, 115 

In world-rejoicing state, it moves sublime. 
Meantime th' expecting nations, circled gay, 
With all the various tribes of foodful earth, 
Implore thy bounty, or send grateful up 
A common hymn : while, round thy beaming car, 120 
High-seen, the Seasons lead, in sprightly dance 
Harmonious knit, the rosy-finger'd Hours; 
The Zephyrs floating loose ; the timely Rains ; 
Of bloom ethereal the light-footed Dews ; 
And softened into joy the surly Storms. 125 

These, in successive turn, with lavish hand, 
Shower every beauty, every fragrance shower, 
Herbs, flowers, and fruits : till, kindling at thy touch, 
From land to land is flush'd the vernal year. 

Nor to the surface of enlivened earth, 130 

Graceful with hills and dales, and leafy woods, 
Her liberal tresses, is thy force confin'd : 
But, to the bowel'd cavern darting deep, 
The mineral kinds confess thy mighty power. 
Effulgent, hence, the veiny marble shines; 135 

Hence Labour draws his tools ; hence burnish'd War 
Gleams on the day ; the nobler works of Peace 
Hence bless mankind ; and generous Commerce binds 
The round of nations in a golden chain. 



SUMMER. 59 



The Sun's Power on Minerals. 



Th* unfruitful rock itself, impregn'd by thee, 1 40 
In dark retirement forms the lucid stone. 
The lively Diamond drinks thy purest rays, 
Collected light, compact ; that, polish'd bright, 
And all its native lustre let abroad, 
Dares, as it sparkles on the fair-one's breast, 145 

With vain ambition emulate her eyes. 
At thee the Ruby lights its deepening glow^ 
And with a waving radiance inward flames. 
From thee the Sapphire, solid ether, takes 
Its hue cerulean ; and of evening tinct, 150 

The purple-streaming Amethyst is thine. 
With thy own smile the yellow Topaz burns, 
Nor deeper verdure dies the robe of Spring, 
When first she gives it to the southern gale, 
Than the green Emerald shows. But, all combin'd, 
Thick thro' the whitening Opal play thy beams ; 156 
Or, flying several from its surface, form 
A trembling variance of revolving hues, 
As the site varies in the gazer's hand. 

The very dead creation, from thy touch, 160 

Assumes a mimic life. By thee refin'd, 
In brighter mazes the relucent stream 
Plays o'er the mead. The precipice abrupt, 
Projecting horror on the blackened flood, 



60 SUMMER. 



The Supreme Being described. 



Softens at thy return. • The desert joys, 165 

Wildly, thro' all his melancholy bounds. 

Rude ruins glitter ; and the briny deep, 

Seen from some pointed promontory's top, 

Far to the blue horizon's utmost verge, 

Restless, reflects a floating gleam. But this, 170 

And all the much-transported Muse can sing, 

Are to thy beauty, dignity, and use, 

Unequal far ; great delegated source 

Of light, and life, and grace, and joy below ! 

How shall I then attempt to sing of Him ! 175 
Who, Light Himself, in uncreated light 
Invested deep, dwells awfully retired 
From mortal eye, or angel's purer ken ; 
Whose single smile has, from the first of time, 
Fill'd, overflowing, all those lamps of Heaven, 180 
That beam for ever thro' the boundless sky : 
But, should he hide his face, th' astonish'd sun, 
And all th' extinguish'd stars, would loosening reel 
Wide from their spheres, and Chaos come again. 

And yet was every faultering tongue of Man, 185 
Almighty Father ! silent in thy praise ; 
Thy works themselves would raise a general voice, 
Even in the depth of solitary woods 
By human foot untrod ; proclaim thy power, 



SUMMER. 61 



Effects of the Sun on the Works of Nature. 

And to the quire celestial Thee resound, 190 

Th' eternal cause, support, and end of all. 

To me be Nature's volume broad-display'd ; 
And to peruse its all-instructing page, 
Or, haply catching inspiration thence, 
Some easy passage, raptur'd, to translate, 195 

My sole delight ; as thro* the falling glooms 
Pensive I stray, or with the rising dawn 
On Fancy's eagle-wing excursive soar. 

Now, flaming up the heavens, the potent sun 
Melts into limpid air the high-rais'd clouds, 200 

And morning fogs, that hover'd round the hills 
In party-colour'd bands ; till wide unveil'd 
The face of Nature shines, from where earth seems, 
Far-stretch'd around, to meet the bending sphere. 

Half in a blush of clust'ring roses lost, 205 

Dew-dropping Coolness to the shade retires ; 
There, on the verdant turf, or flowery bed, 
By gelid founts and careless rills to muse ; 
While tyrant Heat, dispreading thro' the sky, 
With rapid sway, his burning influence darts 210 

On Man, and beast, and herb, and tepid stream. 

Who can unpitying see the flowery race, 
Shed by the morn, their new-flush'd bloom resign, 
Before the parching beam ? So fade the fair, 



62 SUMMER. 



Effects of the Sun on the Works of Nature. 

When fevers revel thro* their azure veins. 215 

But one, the lofty follower of the sun, 
Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves, 
Drooping all night ; and, when he warm returns, 
Points her enamoured bosom to his ray. 

Home, from his morning task, the swain retreats ; 
His flock before him stepping to the fold : 221 

While the full-udder'd mother lows around 
The cheerful cottage, then expecting food, 
The food of innocence, and health ! The daw, 
The rook, and magpie, to the grey-grown oaks 225 
That the calm village in their verdant arms, 
Sheltering, embrace, direct their lazy flight ; 
Where on the mingling boughs they sit embower'd, 
All the hot noon, till cooler hours arise. 
Faint, underneath, the household fowls convene ; 230 
And, in a corner of the buzzing shade, 
The house-dog, with the vacant greyhound, lies, 
Out-stretch'd, and sleepy. In his slumbers one 
Attacks the nightly thief, and one exults 
O'er hill and dale ; till, wakened by the wasp, 235 
They starting snap. Nor shall the Muse disdain 
To let the little noisy summer-race 
Live in her lay, and flutter thro' her song : 
Not mean tho' simple ; to the sun ally'd, 



SUMMER. 63 



Summer Insects. 



From him they draw their animating fire. 240 

Wak'd by his warmer ray, the reptile young 
Come wing'd abroad ; by the light air upborne, 
Lighter, and full of soul. From every chink, 
And secret corner, where they slept away 
The wintry storms; or rising from their tombs, 245 
To higher life ; by myriads, forth at once, 
Swarming they pour ; of all the vary'd hues 
Their beauty-beaming parent can disclose. 

Ten thousand forms ! ten thousand different tribes 1 
People the blaze. To sunny waters some 250 

By fatal instinct fly ; where on the pool 
They, sportive, wheel ; or, sailing down the stream. 
Are snatch'd immediate by the quick-ey'd trout, 
Or darting salmon. Thro' the green- wood glade 
Some love to stray; there lodg'd, amus'd and fed, 255 
In the fresh leaf. Luxurious, others make 
The meads their choice, and visit every flower, 
And every latent herb : for the sweet task, 
To propagate their kinds, and where to wrap, 
In what soft beds, their young yet undisclos'd, 260- 
Employs their tender care. Some to the house, 
The fold, and dairy, hungry, bend their flight; 
Sip round the pail, or taste the curdling cheese : 
Oft, inadvertent, from the milky stream 



64 SUMMER. 



Summer Insects. 



They meet their fate ; or, weltering in the bowl, 265 
With powerless wings around them wrapt, expire. 

But chief to heedless flies the window proves 
A constant death ; where, gloomily retir'd, 
The villain spider lives, cunning, and fierce, 
Mixture abhorr'd ! Amid a mangled heap 270 

Of carcasses, in eager watch he sits, 
O'erlooking all his v/aving snares around. 
Near the dire cell the dreadless wanderer oft 
Passes, as oft the ruffian shows his front ; 
The prey at last ensnar'd, he dreadful darts, 275 

With rapid glide, along the leaning line ; 
And, fixing in the wretch his cruel fangs, 
Strikes backward grimly pleas'd : the fluttering wing, 
And shriller sound, declare extreme distress, 
And ask the helping hospitable hand. 280 

Resounds the living surface of the ground : 
Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hum, 
To him who muses thro' the woods at noon ; 
Or drowsy shepherd, as he lies reclin'd, 
With half-shut eyes, beneath the floating shade 285 
Of willows grey, close-crowding o'er the brook. 

Gradual, from these what numerous kindsdescend, 
Evading ev'n the microscopic eye ! 
Full nature swarms with life ; one wondrous mass 

/ 



SUMMER. 65 



Summer Insects. 



Of animals, or atoms organiz'd, 290 

Waiting the vital Breath, when Parent Heaven 

Shall bid his spirit blow. The hoary fen, 

In putrid steams, emits the living cloud 

Of pestilence. Thro' subterranean cells, 

Where searching sun-beams scarce can find away, 295 

Earth animated heaves. The flowery leaf 

Wants not its soft inhabitants. Secure, 

Within its winding citadel, the stone 

Holds multitudes. But chief the forest-boughs, 

That dance unnumbered to the playful breeze ; 300 

The downy orchard, and the melting pulp 

Of mellow fruit, the nameless nations feed 

Of evanescent insects. Where the pool 

Stands mantled o'er with green, invisible, 

Amid the floating verdure millions stray. 305 

Each liquid too, whether it pierces, soothes, 
Inflames, refreshes, or exalts the taste, 
With various forms abounds. Nor is the stream 
Of purest crystal, nor the lucid air, 
Tho' one transparent vacancy it seems, 310 

Void of their unseen people. These, conceal'd 
By the kind art of forming Heaven, escape 
The grosser eye of Man : for, if the worlds 
In worlds inclos'd should on his senses burst, 



66 SUMMER. 



Summer Insects. 



From cates ambrosial, and the nectar'd bowl, 3 1 5 
He would abhorrent turn ; and in dead night, 
When silence sleeps o'er all, be stunn'd with noise. 

Let no presuming impious railer tax 
Creative Wisdom, as if aught was form'd 
In vain, or not for admirable ends. 320 

Shall little haughty ignorance pronounce 
His works unwise, of which the smallest part 
Exceeds the narrow vision of her mind ? 
As if upon a full-proportion'd dome, 
On swelling columns heav'd, the pride of art ! 325 
A critic-fly, whose feeble ray scarce spreads 
An inch around, with blind presumption bold, 
Should dare to tax the structure of the whole. 
And lives the Man, whose universal eye 
Has swept at once th' unbounded scheme of things; 
Marked their dependance so, and firm accord, 331 
As with unfaultering accent to conclude 
That this availeth nought ? Has any seen 
The mighty chain of beings, lessening down 
From Infinite Perfection to the brink 335 

Of dreary Nothing, desolate abyss ! 
From which astonish'd thought, recoiling, turns ? 
Till then alone let zealous praise ascend, 
And hymns of holy wonder, to that Power, 



SUMMER. 67 



II ay-making. 



Whose wisdom shines as lovely on our minds, 340 
As on our smiling eyes his servant-sun. 

Thick in yon stream of light, a thousand ways, 
Upward, and downward, thwarting, and convolv'd, 
The quivering nations sport ; till, tempest-wing'd, 
Fierce Winter sweeps them from the face of day. 345 
Ev'n so luxurious Men, unheeding, pass 
An idle summer life in fortune's shine ; 
A season's glitter ! Thus they flutter on 
From toy to toy, from vanity to vice ; 
Till, blown away by death, oblivion comes 350 

Behind, and strikes them from the book of life. 

Now swarms the village o'er the jovial mead : 
The rustic youth, brown with meridian toil, 
Healthful and strong ; full as the summer-rose 
Blown by prevailing suns, the ruddy maid, 355 

Half-naked, swelling on the sight, and all 
Her kindled graces burning o'er her cheek. 
Even stooping age is here; and infant-hands 
Trail the long rake, or with the fragrant load 
O'ercharg'd, amid the kind oppression roll. 360 

Wide flies the tedded grain ; all in a row 
Advancing broad, or wheeling round the field, 
They spread the breathing harvest to the sun, 
That throws refreshful round a rural smell : 



68 SUMMER. 



Flock of Sheep. 



Or, as they rake the green-appearing ground, 365 

And drive the dusky wave along the mead, 

The russet hay-cock rises thick behind, 

In order gay. While heard from dale to dale, 

Waking the breeze, resounds the blended voice 

Of happy labour, love, and social glee. 370 

Or rushing thence, in one diffusive band, 
They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog 
Compell'd, to where the mazy-running brook 
Forms a deep pool ; this bank abrupt and high, 
And that fair-spreading in a pebbled shore. 37 5 

Urg'd to the giddy brink, much is the toil, 
The clamour much, of men, and boys, and dogs, 
Ere the soft fearful people to the flood 
Commit their woolly sides. And oft the swain, 
On some impatient seizing, hurls them in: 380 

Embolden'd then, nor hesitating more, 
Fast, fast, they plunge amid the flashing wave, 
And panting labour to the farthest shore. 
Repeated this, till deep the well-wash'd fleece 
Has drunk the flood, and from his lively haunt 385 
The trout is banish'd by the sordid stream ; 
Heavy, and dripping, to the breezy brow 
Slow move the harmless race ; where, as they spread 
Their swelling treasures to the sunny ray, 



SUMMER. 6.9 



Sheepshearing. 



Inly disturbed, and wondering what this wild 390 
Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints 
The country fill ; and, toss'd from rock to rock, 
Incessant bleatings run around the hills. 

At last, of snowy white, the gathered flocks 
Are in the wattled pen innumerous press'd, 395 

Head above head : and rang'd in lusty rows 
The shepherds sit, and whet the sounding shears. 
The housewife waits to roll her fleecy stores, 
With all her gay-drest maids attending round. 
One, chief, in gracious dignity enthron'd, 400 

Shines o'er the rest, the past ral queen, and rays 
Her smiles, sweet-beaming, on her shepherd-king ; 
While the glad circle round them yield their souls 
To festive mirth, and wit that knows no gall. 
Meantime, their joyous task goes on apace : 405 

Some mingling stir the melted tar, and some, 
Deep on the new-shorn vagrant's heaving side, 
To stamp his master's cipher ready stand; 
Others th* unwilling wether drag along ; 
And, glorying in his might, the sturdy boy 410 

Holds by th' twisted horns th' indignant ram. 
Behold where bound, and of its robe bereft, 
By needy Man, that all-depending lord, 
How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies ! 



M SUMMER. 



Noon-Div Hca: crscnbcd. 



Whaf in its melancholy face, 415 

What dumb complaining innocence appears ! 
Fear Dot, e gentle tribes, 't is not the knife 
Of horrid slaughter that is o'er you wav'd ; 
Nc ain's well-guided shears, 

having now, to pay his annual care, 420 

Borrow'd your fleece, to you a cumbrous load, 
::d you bounding to your hills again. 
A siMPLi Bcene jret hence Britannia sees 
Her solid grandeur rise : hence she commands 
TV e : tores of even* brighter clime, 425 

Hk the Sun without his rage : 

Hence, fervent all, with culture, toil, and arts, 

.lows her land : her dreadful thunder hence 
the waves sublime ; and now, ev'n now, 
Impending hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coast ; 430 
H^r.:e rnlef the circling deep, and awes the world. 

Til raging Noon; and, vertical, the Sun 
Da:: : on the head direct his forceful rays. 
O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye 
Can ■ ;ng deluge reigns -, and all 435 

From pole to pole is undistinguished blaze. 
In vain the sight, dejected to the ground, 
5 ;ops for relief; thence hot ascending steams 
I keen reflection pain. Deep to the root 



SUMMER. 71 



Noon-Day Heat described, 



Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields 440 

And slippery lawn an arid hue disclose ; 

Blast Fancy's bloom, and wither ev'n the soul. 

Echo no more returns the cheerful sound 

Of sharpening scythe : the mower sinking heaps 

O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfum'd; 445 

And scarce a chirping grasshopper is heard 

Thro' the dumb mead. Distressful Nature pants. 

The very streams look languid from afar; 

Or, thro' th' unshelter'd glade, impatient seem 

To hurl into the covert of the grove. 450 

All-conquering Heat ! oh intermit thy wrath; 
And on my throbbing temples potent thus 
Beam not so fierce. Incessant still you flow, 
And still another fervent flood succeeds, 
Pour'd on the head profuse. In vain I sigh, 455 
And restless turn, and look around for Night ; 
Night is far off; and hotter hours approach. 
Thrice happy he ! who on the sunless side 
Of a romantic mountain, forest-crown'd, 
Beneath the whole collected shade reclines ; 460 

Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought, 
And fresh-bedew'd with ever-spouting streams, 
Sits coolly calm ; while all the world without, 
Unsatisfied, and sick, tosses in noon. 



72 SUMMER. 



Noon-Day Heat described. 



Emblem instructive of the virtuous Man, 465 

Who keeps his temper'd mind serene, and pure ; 
And every passion aptly harmoniz'd, 
Amid a jarring world with vice inflam'd. 

Welcome, ye shades ! ye bowery thickets hail ! 
Ye lofty pines ! ye venerable oaks ! 470 

Ye ashes wild, resounding o'er the steep ! 
Delicious is your shelter to the soul, 
As to the hunted hart the sallying spring, 
Or stream full-flowing, that his swelling sides 
Laves, as he floats along the herbag'd brink. 475 

Cool, thro' the nerves, your pleasing comfort glides , 
The heart beats glad ; the fresh-expanded eye 
And ear resume their watch ; the sinews knit ; 
And life shoots swift thro' all the lightened limbs. 

Around th' adjoining brook, that purls along 480 
The vocal grove, now fretting o'er a rock, 
Now scarcely moving thro' a reedy pool, 
Now starting to a sudden stream, and now 
Gently diffus'd into a limpid plain ; 
A various group the herds and flocks compose, 485 
Rural confusion ! On the grassy bank 
Some ruminating lie ; while others stand 
Half in the flood, and often bending sip 
The circling surface. In the middle droops 



SUMMER. 73 



Shepherd and his Flock. 



The strong laborious ox, of honest front, 490 

Which incompos'd he shakes; and from his sides 
The troublous insects lashes with his tail, 
Returning still. Amid his subjects safe, 
Slumbers the monarch-swain ; his careless arm 
Thrown round his head, on downy moss sustain'd; 495 
Here laid his scrip, with wholesome viands filPd; 
There, listening every noise, his watchful dog. 

Light fly his slumbers, if perchance a flight 
Of angry gad-flies fasten on the herd ; 
That startling scatters from the shallow brook, 500 
In search of lavish stream. Tossing the foam, 
They scorn the keeper's voice, and scour the plain, 
Thro* all the bright severity of noon ; 
While, from their labouring breasts, a hollow moan 
Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills. 505 

Oft in this season too the horse, provok'd, 
While his big sinews full of spirits sweH ; 
Trembling with vigour, in the heat of blood, 
Springs the high fence ; and, o'er the field effus'd, 
Darts on the gloomy flood, with stedfast eye, 510 
And heart estrang'd to fear : his nervous chest, 
Luxuriant, and erect, the seat of strength, 
Bears down th' opposing stream : quenchless his thirst -, 
He takes the river at redoubled draughts; 



74 SUMMER. 



A solemn Grove described. 



And with wide nostrils, snorting, skims the wave. 515 

Still let me pierce into the midnight depth 
Of yonder grove, of wildest largest growth : 
That, forming high in air a woodland quire, 
Nods o'er the mount beneath. At every step, 
Solemn, and slow, the shadows blacker fall,. 520 

And all is awful listening gloom around. 

These are the haunts of Meditation ; these 
The scenes where ancient bards th' inspiring breath, 
Ecstatic, felt ; and, from this world retir'd, 
Convers'd with angels, and immortal forms, 525 

On gracious errands bent : to save the fall 
Of virtue struggling on the brink of vice ; , 
In waking whispers, and repeated dreams, 
To hint pure thought, and warn the favoured soul 
For future trials fated to prepare ; 530 

To prompt the poet, who devoted gives 
His muse to better themes ; to sooth the pangs 
Of dying worth, and from the patriot's breast 
(Backward to mingle in detested war, 
But foremost when engag'd) to turn the death ; 535 
And numberless such offices of love, 
Dailv, and nightly, zealous to perform. 

Shook sudden from the bosom of the sky, 
A thousand shapes or glide athwart the dusk, 






SUMMER. 75 



A solemn Grove described. 



Or stalk majestic on. Deep-rous'd, I feel 540 

A sacred terror, a severe delight, 

Creep thro* my mortal frame ; and thus, methinks, 

A voice, than human more, th' abstracted ear 

Of fancy strikes. ** Be not of us afraid, 

" Poor kindred Man ! thy fellow-creatures, we 545 

" From the same Parent-Power our beings drew, 

•* The same our Lord, and laws, and great pursuit. 

" Once some of us, like thee, thro* stormy life, 

" Toird, tempest-beaten, ere we could attain 

" This holy calm, this harmony of mind, 550 

" Where purity and peace immingle charms. 

" Then fear not us ; but with responsive song, 

" Amid these dim recesses, undisturb'd 

" By noisy folly and discordant vice, 

" Of Nature sing with us, and Nature's God. 555 

" Here frequent, at the visionary hour, 

" When musing midnight reigns or silent noon, 

" Angelic harps are in full concert heard, 

cc And voices chaunting from the wood-crown'd hill, 

" The deepening dale, or inmost sylvan glade : 560 

" A privilege bestow'd by us, alone, 

" On contemplation, or the hallow'd ear 

f* Of Poet, swelling to seraphic strains." 

And art thou, Stanley, of that sacred band ? 



76 SUMMER. 



A solemn Grove described. 



Alas, for us too soon ! Tho' rais'd above 565 

The reach of human pain, above the flight 

Of human joy ; yet, with a mingled ray 

Of sadly-pleas'd remembrance, must thou feel 

A mothers love, a mother's tender woe : 

Who seeks thee still, in many a former scene; 570 

Seeks thy fair form, thy lovely-beaming eyes, 

Thy pleasing converse, by gay lively sense 

Inspir'd : where moral wisdom mildly shone, 

Without the toil of art ; and virtue glow'd, 

In all her smiles, without forbidding pride. 575 

But, O thou best of parents ! wipe thy tears ; 

Or rather to Parental Nature pay 

The tears of grateful joy \ who for a while 

Lent thee this younger self, this opening bloom 

Of thy enlightened mind and gentle worth. 580 

Believe the Muse : the wintry blast of death 

Kills not the buds of virtue ; no, they spread, 

Beneath the heavenly beam of brighter suns, 

Thro' endless ages, into higher powers. 

Thus up the mount, in airy vision rapt, 585 

I stray, regardless whither ; till the sound 
Of a near fall of water every sense 
Wakes from the charm of thought : swift-shrinking back, 
I check my steps, and view the broken scene. 



SUMMER. 77 



A Waterfall described. 



Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood 590 
Rolls fair, and placid ; where collected all, 
In one impetuous torrent, down the steep 
It thundering shoots, and shakes the country round. 
At first, an azure sheet, it rushes broad ; 
Then whitening by degrees, as prone it falls, 595 

And from the loud-resounding rocks below 
Dash'd in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft 
A hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless shower. 
Nor can the tortur'd wave here find repose ; 
But, raging still amid the shaggy rocks, 600 

Now flashes o'er the scatter'd fragments, now 
Aslant the hollowed channel rapid darts •> 
And falling fast from gradual slope to slope, 
With wild infracted course, and lessened roar, 
It gains a safer bed ; and steals, at last, 605 

Along the mazes of the quiet vale. 

Invited from the cliff, to whose dark brow 
He clings, the steep-ascending eagle soars, 
With upward pinions thro' the flood of day ; 
And, giving full his bosom to the blaze, 610 

Gains on the sun ; while all the tuneful race, 
Smit by afflictive noon, disordered droop, 
Deep in the thicket ; or, from bower to bower 
Responsive, force an interrupted strain. 



78 SUMMER. 



Torrid Zone described. 



The stock-dove only thro* the forest cooes, 615 

Mournfully hoarse ; oft ceasing from his plaint; 

Short interval of weary woe ! again 

The sad idea of his murder'd mate, 

Struck from his side by savage fowler's guile, 

Across his fancy comes ; and then resounds 620 

A louder song of sorrow thro* the grove. 

Beside the dewy border let me sit, 
All in the freshness of the humid air ; 
There in that hollow'd rock, grotesque and wild, 
An ample chair moss-lin'd, and over head 625 

By flowering umbrage shaded ; where the bee 
Strays diligent, and with th' extracted balm 
Of fragrant woodbine loads his little thigh. 

Now, while I taste the sweetness of the shade, 
While Nature lies around deep-lull'd in Noon, 630 
Now come, bold Fancy, spread a daring flight, 
And view the wonders of the Torrid Zone : 
Climes unrelenting ! with whose rage compar'd, 
Yon blaze is feeble, and yon skies are cool. 

See, how at once the bright-effulgent sun, 635 
Rising direct, swift chases from the sky 
The short-liv'd twilight > and with ardent blaze 
Looks gaily fierce thro' all the dazzling air 
He mounts his throne ; but kind before him sends, 



SUMMER. 79 



Gardening. 



Issuing from out the portals of the morn, 640 

The general breeze, to mitigate his lire, 

And breathe refreshment on a fainting world. 

Great are the scenes, with dreadful beauty crown'd 

And barbarous wealth, that see, each circling year, 

Returning suns and double seasons pass: 645 

Rocks rich in gems, and mountains big with mines, 

That on the high equator ridgy rise, 

Whence many a bursting stream auriferous plays : 

Majestic woods, of every vigorous green, 

Stage above stage, high-waving o'er the hills ; 650 

Or to the far horizon wide diffus'd, 

A boundless deep immensity of shade. 

Here lofty trees, to ancient song unknown, 
The noble sons of potent heat and floods, 654 

Prone-rushing from the clouds, rear high to Heaven 
Their thorny stems ; and broad around them throw 
Meridian gloom. Here, in eternal prime, 
Unnumber'd fruits, of keen delicious taste 
And vital spirit, drink amid the cliffs, 
And burning sands that bank the shrubby vales, 660 
Redoubled day ; yet in their rugged coats 
A friendly juice to cool its rage contain. 

Bear me, Pomona! to thy citron groves; 
To where the lemon and the piercing lime, 



80 SUMMER. 



Gardening. 



With the deep orange, glowing thro' the green, 665 

Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclin'd 

Beneath the spreading tamarind that shakes, 

Fann'd by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit. 

Deep in the night the massy locust sheds, 

Quench my hot limbs; or lead me thro* the maze, 670 

Embowering endless, of the Indian fig; 

Or thrown at gayer ease, on some fair brow, 

Let me behold, by breezy murmurs cool'd, 

Broad o'er my head the verdant cedar wave, 

And high palmetos lift their graceful shade. 

Or stretch'd amid these orchards of the sun, 

Give me to drain the cocoa's milky bowl, 

And from the palm to draw its freshening wine ; 

More bounteous far, than all the frantic juice 

Which Bacchus pours. Nor, on its slender twigs 680 

Low-bending, be the full pomegranate scorn'd ; 

Nor, creeping thro* the woods, the gelid race 

Of berries. Oft in humble station dwells 

Unboastful worth, above fastidious pomp. 

Witness, thou best Anana ! thou the pride 685 

Of vegetable life, beyond whate'er 

The poets imag'd in the golden age : 

Quick let me strip thee of thy tufty coat, 

Spread thy ambrosial stores, and feast with Jove ! 



SUMMER. 81 



Various Animals des'Tibed. 



From these the prospect varies. Plains immense 
Lie stretch'd below, interminable meads, 691 

And vast savannahs, where the wandering eye, 
Unfixt, is in a verdant ocean lost. 
Another Flora there, of bolder hues, 
And richer sweets, beyond our garden's pride, 695 
Plays o'er the fields, and showers with sudden hand 
Exuberant spring : for oft these valleys shift 
Their green-embroider'd robe to fiery brown, 
And swift to green again, as scorching suns, 
Or streaming dews and torrent rains, prevail. 700 

Along these lonely regions, where retir'd 
From little scenes of art, great Nature dwells 
In awful solitude ; and nought is seen 
But the wild herds that own no master's stall ; 
Prodigious rivers roll their fattening seas ; 705 

On whose luxuriant herbage, half-conceal'd, 
Like a fall'n cedar, far-dirTus'd his train, 
Cas'd in green scales, the crocodile extends. 

The flood disparts : behold ! in plaited mail, 
Behemoth rears his head. Glanc'd from his side, 710 
The darted steel in idle shivers flies : 
He fearless walks the plain, or seeks the hills ; 
Where, as he crops his varied fare, the herds, 
In widening circle round, forget their food, 

G 



82 SUMMER 



Various Animals described. 



And at the harmless stranger wondering gaze. 715 

Peaceful, beneath primeval trees, that cast 
Their ample shade o'er Niger's yellow stream, 
And where the Ganges rolls his sacred wave ; 
Or mid the central depth of blackening woods, 
High-rais'd in solemn theatre around, 720 

Leans the huge elephant : wisest of brutes ! 
O truly wise ! with gentle might endow'd ; 
Tho' powerful, not destructive ! Here he sees 
Revolving ages sweep the changeful earth, 
And empires rise and fall ; regardless he 725 

Of what the never-resting race of Men 
Project : thrice happy ! could he 'scape their guile, 
Who mine, from cruel avarice, his steps ; 
Or with his towery grandeur swell their state, 
The pride of kings ! or else his strength pervert, 730 
And bid him rage amid the mortal fray, 
Astonish'd at the madness of mankind. 

Wide o'er the winding umbrage of the floods, 
Like vivid blossoms glowing from afar, 
Thick-swarm the brighter birds. For Nature's hand, 
That with a sportive vanity has deck'd 736 

The plumy nations, there her gayest hues 
Profusely pours. But, if she bids them shine, 
Array'd in all the beauteous beams of day, 






SUMMER. 83 



Various Animals described. 



Yet frugal still, she humbles them in song. 740 

Nor envy we the gaudy robes they lent 

Proud Montezuma's realm, whose legions cast 

A boundless radiance waving on the sun, 

While Philomel is ours ; while in our shades, 

Thro* the soft silence of the listening night, 745 

The sober-suited songstress trills her lay. 

But come, my Muse, the desert-barrier burst, 
A wild expanse of lifeless sand and sky: 
And, swifter than the toiling caravan, 
Shoot o'er the vale of Sennar ; ardent climb 750 

The Nubian mountains, and the secret bounds 
Of jealous Abyssinia boldly pierce. 
Thou art no ruffian, who beneath the mask 
Of social commerce com'st to rob their wealth ; 
No holy Fury thou, blaspheming Heaven, 755 

With consecrated steel to stab their peace, 
And thro' the land, yet red from civil wounds, 
To spread the purple tyranny of Rome. 

Thou, like the harmless bee, may'st freely range, 
From mead to mead bright with exalted flowers; 760 
From jasmine grove to grove, may'st wander gay ; 
Thro* palmy shades and aromatic woods, 
That grace the plains, invest the peopled hills, 
And up the more than Alpine mountains wave. 



84 SUMMER 



Thunder described, 



There on the breezy summit, spreading fair, 765 

For many a league ; or on stupendous rocks, 

That from the sun-redoubling valley lift, 

Cool to the middle air, their lawny tops ; 

Where palaces, and fanes, and villas rise ; 

And gardens smile around, and cultur'd fields ; 770 

And fountains gush ; and careless herds and flocks 

Securely stray ; a world within itself, 

Disdaining all assault : there let me draw 

Ethereal soul ; there drink reviving gales, 

Profusely breathing from the spicy groves, 775 

And vales of fragrance ; there at distance hear 

The roaring floods, and cataracts, that sweep 

From disembowel'd earth the virgin gold ; 

And o'er the varied landskip, restless, rove, 

Fervent with life of every fairer kind ; 780 

A land of wonders ! which the sun still eyes 

With ray direct, as of the lovely realm 

Enamour'd, and delighting there to dwell. 

How chang'd the scene! In blazing height of. noon, 
The sun, oppress'd, is plung'd in thickest gloom. 785 
Still Horror reigns ! a dreary twilight round, 
Of struggling night and day malignant mix'd ! 
For to the hot equator crowding fast, 
Where, highly rarefy'd, the yielding air 



SUMMER. 85 



The River Nile described. 



Admits their stream, incessant vapours roll, 790 

Amazing clouds on clouds continual heap'd ; 

Or whirl'd tempestuous by the gusty wind, 

Or silent borne along, heavy, and slow, 

With the big stores of steaming oceans charg'd. 

Meantime, amid these upper seas, condense 795 

Around the cold aerial mountain's brow, 

And by conflicting winds together dash'd, 

The Thunder holds his black tremendous throne : 

From cloud to cloud the rending Lightnings rage -, 

Till, in the furious elemental war 800 

Dissolv'd, the whole precipitated mass 

•Unbroken floods and solid torrents pours. 

The treasures these, hid from the bounded search 
Of ancient knowledge ; whence, with annual pomp, 
Rich king of floods 1 o'erflows the swelling Nile. 805 
From his two springs, in Gojam's sunny realm, 
Pure-welling out, he thro' the lucid lake 
Of fair Dambea rolls his infant-stream. 
There, by the Naiads nurs'd, he sports away 
His playful youth, amid the fragrant isles, 810 

That with unfading verdure smile around. 
Ambitious, thence the manly river breaks ; 
And gathering many a flood, and copious fed 
With all the mellowed treasures of the sky, 



86 SUMMER. 



The TCiver Nile described. 



Winds in progressive majesty along : 815 

Thro' splendid kingdoms now devolves his maze -, 

Now wanders wild o'er solitary tracts 

Of life-deserted sand ; till, glad to quit 

The joyless desert, down the Nubian rocks 

From thundering steep to steep, he pours his urn, 820 

And Egypt joys beneath the spreading wave. 

His brother Niger too, and all the floods 
In which the full-form'd maids of Afric lave 
Their jetty limbs ; and all that from the tract 
Of woody mountains stretch'd thro* gorgeous Ind 825 
Fall on Commanders coast, or Malabar ; 
From Menam's orient stream, that nightly shines 
With insect-lamps, to where Aurora sheds 
On Indus' smiling banks the rosy shower : 
All, at this bounteous season, ope their urns, 830 
And pour untoiling harvest o'er the land. 

Nor less thy world, Columbus, drinks, refresh'd, 
The lavish moisture of the melting year. 
Wide o'er his isles the branching Oronoque 
Rolls a brown deluge; and the native drives 835 
To dwell aloft on life-sufficing trees ; 
At once his dome, his robe, his food, and arms. 

Swell'd by a thousand streams, impetuous hurl'd 
From all the roaring Andes, huge descends 



SUMMER. 87 



Africa and its Inhabitants. 



The mighty Orellana. Sacrce the Muse 840 

Dares stretch her wing o'er this enormous mass 
Of rushing water ; scarce she dares attempt 
The sea-like Plata ; to whose dread expanse, 
Continuous depth, and wondrous length of course, 
Our floods are rills. With unabated force, 845 

In silent dignity they sweep along ; 
And traverse realms unknown, and blooming wilds, 
And fruitful deserts, worlds of solitude ! 
Where the sun smiles and seasons teem in vain, 
Unseen, and unenjoy'd. Forsaking these, 850 

O'er peopled plains they fair-diffusive flow ; 
And many a nation feed ; and circle safe, 
In their soft bosom, many a happy isle ; 
The seat of blameless Pan, yet undisturb'd 
By Christian crimes and Europe's cruel sons. 855 
Thus pouring on they proudly seek the deep, 
Whose vanquish'd tide, recoiling from the shock, 
Yields to this liquid weight of half the globe ; 
And Ocean trembles for his green domain. 

But what avails this wondrous waste of wealth ? 
This gay profusion of luxurious bliss ? 861 

This pomp of Nature ? what their balmy meads, 
Their powerful herbs, and Ceres void of pain ? 
By vagrant birds dispers'd, and wafting winds, 



88 SUMMER 



Africa and its inhabitants. 



What their unplanted fruits? What the cool draughts, 
Th* ambrosial food, rich gums, and spicy health, 866 
Their forests yield ? Their toiling insects what ? 
Their silky pride, and vegetable robes ? 
Ah ! what avail their fatal treasures, hid 
Deep in the bowels of the pitying earth, 870 

Golconda's gems, and sad Potosi's mines ; 
Where dwelt the gentlest children of the sun ? 
What all that Afric's golden rivers roll, 
Her od'rous woods, and shining ivory stores ? 
Ill-fated race ! the softening arts of Peace ; 875 

Whate'er the humanizing Muses teach ; 
The godlike wisdom of the temper'd breast ; 
Progressive truth ; the patient force of thought ; 
Investigation calm, whose silent powers 
Command the world; the Light that leads to Heaven ; 
Kind equal rule; the government of laws, 881 

And all-protecting Freedom, which alone 
Sustains the name and dignity of Man ; 
These are not theirs. The parent-sun himself 
Seems o'er this world of slaves to tyrannize; 885 

And, with oppressive ray, the roseate bloom 
Of beauty blasting, gives the gloomy hue, 
And feature gross : or worse, to ruthless deeds, 
Mad jealousy, blind rage, and fell revenge, 



SUMMER. 89 



Animals of the Desert. 



Their fervid spirit fires. Love dwells not there; 890 
The soft regards, the tenderness of life, 
The heart-shed tear, th' ineffable delight 
Of sweet humanity; these court the beam 
Of milder climes ; in selfish fierce desire, 
And the wild fury of voluptuous sense, 895 

There lost. The very brute-creation there 
This rage partakes, and burns with horrid fire. 
Lo ! the green serpent, from his dark abode, 
Which ev'n Imagination fears to tread, 
At noon forth-issuing, gathers up his train 900 

In orbs immense ; then, darting out anew, 
Seeks the refreshing fount ; by which diffused, 
He throwshis folds : and while, with threat'ning tongue, 
And deathful jaws erect, the monster curls 
His flaming crest, all other thirst appall'd, 905 

Or shivering flies, or check'd at distance stands, 
Nor dares approach. But still more direful he, 
The small close-lurking minister of Fate, 
Whose high-concocted venom thro* the veins 
A rapid lightning darts, arresting swift 910 

The vital current. Form'd to humble man, 
This child of vengeful Nature ! There, sublim'd 
To fearless lust of blood, the savage race 
Roam, licens'd by the shading hour of guilt, 



90 SUMMER. 



Animals of the Desert. 




And foul misdeed, when the pure day has shut 915 
His sacred eye. The tiger darting fierce 
Impetuous on the prey his glance has doom'd ; 
The lively-shining leopard, speckled o'er 
With many a spot, the beauty of the waste ; 
And, scorning all the taming arts of Man, 920 

The keen hyena, fellest of the fell : 
These, rushing from th' inhospitable woods 
Of Mauritania, or the tufted isles, 
That verdant rise amid the Libyan wild, 
Innumerous glare around their shaggy king 925 

Majestic, stalking o'er the printed sand ; 
And, with imperious and repeated roars, 
Demand their fated food. The fearful flocks 
Crowd near the guardian swain ; the nobler herds, 
Where round their lordly bull, in rural ease, 930 

They ruminating lie, with horror hear 
The coming rage. Th' awakened village starts; 
And to her fluttering breast the mother strains 
Her thoughtless infant. From the pirate's den, 
Or stern Morocco's tyrant fang escap'd, 935 

The wretch half-wishes for his bonds again : 
While, uproar all, the wilderness resounds, 
From Atlas eastward to the frighted Nile. 
Unhappy he 1 who from the first of joys, 



SUMMER. 9i 



Deserts of Arabia. 



Society, cut off, is left alone 940 

Amid this world of death. Day after day, 
Sad on the jutting eminence he sits, 
And views the main that ever toils below ; 
Still fondly forming in the farthest verge, 
Where the round ether mixes with the wave, 945 
Ships, dim-discover'd, dropping from the clouds ; 
At evening, to the setting sun he turns 
A mournful eye, and down his dying heart 
Sinks helpless ; while the wonted roar is up, 
And hiss continual thro' the tedious night. 950 

Yet here, even here, into these black abodes 
Of monsters, unappall'd, from stooping Rome, 
And guilty Caesar, Liberty retir'd, 
Her Cato following thro' Numidian wilds : 
Disdainful of Campania's gentle plains, 955 

And all the green delights Ausonia pours ; 
When for them she must bend the servile knee, 
And fawning take the splendid robber's boon. 
Nor stop the terrors of these regions here. 
Commission'd demons oft, angels of wrath ! 960 

Let loose the raging elements. Breath'd hot, 
From all the boundless furnace of the sky, 
And the wide glittering waste of burning sand, 
A suffocating wind the pilgrim smites 



92 SUMMER. 



A Hurricane described. 



With instant death. Patient of thirst and toil, 965 

Son of the desert ! ev'n the camel feels, 

Shot through his wither'd heart, the fiery blast. 

Or from the black-red ether, bursting broad, 

Sallies the sudden whirlwind. Strait the sands, 

Commov'd around, in gathering eddies play ; 970 

Nearer and nearer still they darkening come ; 

Till, with the general all-involving storm 

Swept up, the whole continuous wilds arise ; 

And by their noon-day fount dejected thrown, 

Or sunk at night in sad disastrous sleep, 975 

Beneath descending hills, the caravan 

Is buried deep. In Cairo's crowded streets 

Th' impatient merchant, wondering, waits in vain, 

And Mecca saddens at the long delay. 

But chief at sea, whose every flexile wave 980 
Obeys the blast, the aerial tumult swells. 
In the dread ocean, undulating wide, 
Beneath the radiant line that girts the globe, 
The circling Typhon, whirl'd from point to point, 
Exhausting all the rage of all the sky, 985 

And dire Ecnephia reign. Amid the heavens, 
Falsely serene, deep in a cloudy, speck 
Compress'd, the mighty tempest brooding dwells ; 
Of no regard, save to the skilful eye. 



SUMMER. 93 

A Hurricane described. 

Fiery and foul, the small prognostic hangs 990 

Aloft, or on the promontory's brow- 
Musters its force. A faint deceitful calm, 
A fluttering gale, the demon sends before, 
To tempt the spreading sail. Then down at once, 
Precipitant, descends a mingled mass 995 

Of roaring winds, and flame, and rushing floods. 

In wild amazement fix'd the sailor stands. 
Art is too slow : by rapid Fate oppressed, 
His broad-wing'd vessel drinks the whelming tide, 
Hid in the bosom of the black abyss. 1000 

With such mad seas the daring Gam a fought, 
For many a day, and many a dreadful night, 
Incessant, lab'ring round the stormy Cape ; 
By bold ambition led, and bolder thirst 
Of gold. For then from ancient gloom emerg'd 1005 
The rising world of trade ; the Genius, then, 
Of navigation, that, in hopeless sloth, 
Had slumber'd on the vast Atlantic deep, 
For idle ages, starting, heard at last 
The Lusitanian Prince ; who, HEAv'N-inspir'd, 
To love of useful glory rous'd mankind, 101 1 

And in unbounded Commerce mix'd the world. 

Increasing still the terrors of these storms, 
His jaws horrific arm'd with threefold fate, 



94 SUMMER. 



Pestilential Diseases. 



Here dwells the direful shark. Lur'd by the scent 1015 

Of steaming crowds, of rank disease, and death, 

Behold ! he rushing cuts the briny flood, 

Swift as the gale can bear the ship along ; 

And, from the partners of that cruel trade, 

Which spoils unhappy Guinea of her sons, 1020 

Demands his share of prey ; demands themselves. 

The stormy Fates descend : one death involves 

Tyrants and slaves ; when strait, their mangled limbs 

Crashing at once, he dies the purple seas 

With gore, and riots in the vengeful meal. 1025 

When o'er this world, by equinoctial rains 
Flooded immense, looks out the joyless sun, 
And draws the copious stream : from swampy fens, 
Where putrefaction into life ferments, 
And breathes destructive myriads ; or from woods, 
Impenetrable shades, recesses foul, 1031 

In vapours rank and blue corruption wrapt, 
Whose gloomy horrors yet no desperate foot 
Has ever dar'd to pierce ; then, wasteful, forth 
Walks the dire Power of pestilential disease. 1035 
A thousand hideous fiends her course attend j 
Sick Nature blasting, and to heartless woe, 
And feeble desolation, casting down 
The towering hopes and all the pride of Man. 



SUMMER. 95 



The Plague. 



Such as, of late, at Carthagena quench'd 1040 

The British fire. You, gallant Vernon ! saw 
The miserable scene ; you, pitying, saw- 
To infant-weakness sunk the warrior's arm ; 
Saw the deep-racking pang, the ghastly form, 
The lip pale-quivering, and the beamless eye 1045 
No more with ardour bright : you heard the groans 
Of agonizing ships, from shore to shore ; 
Heard, nightly plung'd amid the sullen waves, 
The frequent corse ; while on each other fix'd, 
In sad presage, the blank assistants seem'd, 1050 
Silent, to ask, whom Fate would next demand. 

What need I mention those inclement skies, 
Where, frequent o'er the sickening city, Plague, 
The fiercest child of Nemesis divine, 
Descends ? From Ethiopia's poisoned woods, 1055 
From stifled Cairo's filth, and fetid fields 
With locust-armies putrefying heap'd, 
This great destroyer sprung. Her awful rage 
The brutes escape : Man is her destin'd prey ; 
Intemperate Man ! and, o'er his guilty domes, 1060 
She draws a close incumbent cloud of death ; 
Uninterrupted by the living winds, 
Forbid to blow a wholesome breeze ; and stain'd 
With many a mixture by the sun, sufFus'd, 



96 SUMMER. 



The Plague. 



Of angry aspect. Princely wisdom, then, 1065 

Dejects his watchful eye ; and from the hand 

Of feeble justice, ineffectual, drop 

The sword and balance : mute the voice of joy, 

And hush'd the clamour of the busy world. 

Empty the streets, with uncooth verdure clad ; 1070 

Into the worst of deserts sudden turn'd 

The cheerful haunt of Men : unless escap'd 

From the doom'd house, where matchless horror reigns, 

Shut up by barbarous fear, the smitten wretch, 

With frenzy wild, breaks loose; and, loud to Heaven 

Screaming, the dreadful policy arraigns, 1076 

Inhuman, and unwise. The sullen door, 

Yet uninfected, on its cautious hinge 

Fearing to turn, abhors society : 

Dependants, friends, relations, Love himself, 1080 

Savag'd by woe, forget the tender tie, 

The sweet engagement of the feeling heart. 

But vain their selfish care : the circling sky, 
The wide enlivening air is full of fate ; 
And, struck by turns, in solitary pangs 1085 

They fall, unblest, untended, and unmourn'd. 
Thus o'er the prostrate city black Despair 
Extends her raven wing ; while, to complete 
The scene of desolation, stretch'd around, 






SUMMER. 97 



A Thunder Storm. 



The grim guards stand, denying all retreat, 1090 

And give the flying wretch a better death. 

Much yet remains unsung : the rage intense 
Of brazen-vaulted skies, of iron fields, 
Where drought and famine starve the blasted year: 
Fir'd by the torch of noon to ten-fold rage, 1095 

Th' infuriate hill that shoots the pillar'd flame ; 
And, rous'd within the subterranean world, 
Th* expanding earthquake, that resistless shakes 
Aspiring cities from their solid base, 
And buries mountains in the flaming gulph. 1100 
But 't is enough ; return my vagrant Muse : 
A nearer scene of horror calls thee home. 

Behold, slow-settling o'er the lurid grove, 
Unusual darkness broods ; and growing gains 
The full possession of the sky ; surcharg'd 1 105 

With wrathful vapour, from the secret beds 
Where sleep the mineral generations, drawn. 
Thence Nitre, Sulphur, and the fiery spume 
Of fat Bitumen, steaming on the day, 
With various tinctur'd trains of latent flame, 1110 
Pollute the sky ; and in yon baleful cloud, 
A reddening gloom, a magazine of fate, 
Ferment ; till, by the touch ethereal rous'd, 
The dash of clouds, or irritating war 

H 



98 SUMMER. 



A Thunder Storm. 



Of fighting winds, while all is calm below, 1115 

They furious spring. A boding silence reigns, 
Dread thro' the dun expanse \ save the dull sound 
That from the mountain, previous to the storm, 
Rolls o'er the muttering earth, disturbs the flood, 
And shakes the forest-leaf without a breath. 1120 
Prone, to the lowest vale, the aerial tribes 
Descend : the tempest-loving raven scarce 
Dares wing the dubious dusk. In rueful gaze 
The cattle stand, and on the scowling heavens 
Cast a deploring eye ; by Man forsook, 1125 

Who to the crowded cottage hies him fast, 
Or seeks the shelter of the downward cave. 

'Tis listening fear, and dumb amazement all : 
When to the startled eye the sudden glance 
Appears far south, eruptive thro* the cloud ; 1 130 
And following slower, in explosion vast, 
The thunder raises his tremendous voice. 
At first, heard solemn o'er the verge of heaven, 
The tempest growls ; but as it nearer comes, 
And rolls its awful burden on the wind, 1135 

The lightnings flash a larger curve, and more 
The noise astounds : till over head a sheet 
Of livid flame discloses wide ; then shuts, 
And opens wider; shuts and opens still 




SUxMMER. 99 



A Thunder Storm. 



Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze. 1140 

Follows the loosened aggravated roar, 
Enlarging, deepening, mingling ; peal on peal 
Crush'd horrible, convulsing heaven and earth. 

Down comes a deluge of sonorous hail, 
Or prone-descending rain. Wide rent, the clouds 1145 
Pour a whole flood ; and yet, its flame unquench'd, 
Th' unconquerable lightning struggles through, 
Ragged and fierce, or in red whirling balls ; 
And fires the mountains with redoubled rage. 1149 
Black from the stroke, above, the smouldering pine 
Stands a sad shatter'd trunk ; and, stretch'd below, 
A lifeless group the blasted cattle lie : 
Here the soft flocks, with that same harmless look 
They wore alive, and ruminating still 
In fancy's eye ; and there the frowning bull 1155 
And ox half-rais'd. Struck on the castled cliff, 
The venerable tower and spiry fane 
Resign their aged pride. The gloomy woods 
Start at the flash, and from their deep recess, 
Wide-flaming out, their trembling inmates shake. 
Amid Carnarvon's mountains rages loud 1161 

The repercussive roar : with mighty crush, 
Into the flashing deep, from the rude rocks 
Of Penmanmaur heap'd hideous to the sky, 



100 SUMMER 



Story of Celadon and Amelia. 



Tumble the smitten cliffs; and Snowden's peak, 1 165 
Dissolving, instant yields his wintry load. 
Far-seen, the heights of heathy Cheviot blaze, 
And Thule bellows thro' her utmost isles. 

Guilt hears appall'd, with deeply-troubled thought. 
And yet not always on the guilty head 1 170 

Descends the fated flash. Young Celadon 
And his Amelia were a matchless pair ; 
With equal virtue form'd, and equal grace, 
The same, distinguish'd by their sex alone : 
Her's the mild lustre of the blooming morn, 1175 
And his the radiance of the risen day. 

They lov'd : but such their guileless passion was, 
As in the dawn of time inform 'd the heart 
Of innocence, and undissembling truth. 
'T was friendship heightened by the mutual wish, 1 1 80 
Th' enchanting hope, and sympathetic glow, 
Beam'd from the mutual eye. Devoting all 
To love, each was to each a dearer self; 
Supremely happy in th' awakened power 
Of giving joy. Alone, amid the shades, 11851 

Still in harmonious intercourse they liv'd 
The rural day, and talk'd the flowing heart, 
Or sigh'd and look'd unutterable things. 

So pass'd their life, a clear united stream, 



I 



SUMMER. 101 



Story of Celadon and Amelia. 



By care unruffled; till, in evil hour, 1190 

The tempest caught them on the tender walk, 

Heedless how far, and where its mazes stray 'd ; 

While, with each other blest, creative love 

Still bade eternal Eden smile around. 

Presaging instant fate her bosom heav'd 1 195 

Unwonted sighs ; and stealing oft a look 

Of the big gloom on Celadon, her eye 

Fell tearful, wetting her disordered cheek. 

In vain assuring love, and confidence 1199 

In Heaven, repress'd her fear; it grew, and shook 

Her frame near dissolution. He perceiv'd 

Th' unequal conflict, and as angels look 

On dying saints, his eyes compassion shed, 

With love illumin'd high. " Fear not," he said, 

cc Sweet innocence ! thou stranger to offence, 1205 

" And inward storm ! He, who yon skies involves 

*' In frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee 

" With kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft 

" That wastes at midnight, or th' undreaded hour 

" Of noon, flies harmless: and that very voice, 1210 

" Which thunders terror thro' the guilty heart, 

" With tongues of seraphs whispers peace to thine. 

" 'Tis safety to be near thee sure, and thus 

" To clasp perfection!" From his void embrace, 1214 



102 



SUMMER. 



Story of Celadon and Amelia. 



220 



Mysterious Heaven ! that moment, to the ground, 
A blackened corse, was struck the beauteous maid. 
But who can paint the lover, as he stood, 
Pierc'd by severe amazement, hating life, 
Speechless, and nVd in all the death of woe ! 
So, faint resemblance ! on the marble tomb, 122 
The well-dissembled mourner stooping stands, 
For ever silent, and for ever sad. 

As from the face of heaven the shattered clouds 
Tumultuous rove, th' interminable sky 
Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands 1225 
A purer azure. Thro* the lightened air 
A higher lustre and a clearer calm, 
Diffusive, tremble $ while, as if in sign 
Of danger past, a glittering robe of joy, 
Set off abundant by the yellow ray, 1230 

Invests the fields ; and nature smiles reviv'd. 

'Tis beauty all, and grateful song around, 
Join'd to the low of kine, and numerous bleat 
Of flocks thick-nibbling thro' the clover'd vale. 
And shall the hymn be marr'd by thankless Man, 1235 
Most favour'd ; who with voice articulate 
Should lead the chorus of this lower world ? 
Shall he, so soon forgetful of the Hand 
That hush'd the thunder, and serenes the sky, 



SUMMER. 103 



Bathing. 



Extinguish'd feel that spark the tempest wak'd ? 1240 
That sense of powers exceeding far his own, 
Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears ? 

Cheer'd by the milder beam, the sprightly youth 
Speeds to the well-known pool, whose crystal depth 
A sandy bottom shows. Awhile he stands 1245 

Gazing th' inverted landskip, half afraid 
To meditate the blue profound below ; 
Then plunges headlong down the circling flood. 
His ebon tresses, and his rosy cheek, 
Instant emerge; and thro' the obedient wave, 1250 
At each short breathing by his lip repell'd, 
With arms and legs according well, he makes, 
As humour leads, an easy-winding path ; 
While, from his polish'd sides, a dewy light 
Effuses on the pleas'd spectators round. 1255 

This is the purest exercise of health, 
The kind refresher of the summer-heats ; 
Nor, when cold winter keens the brightening flood, 
Would I weak-shivering linger on the brink. 
Thus life redoubles, and is oft preserv'd, 1260 

By the bold swimmer, in the swift illapse 
Of accident disastrous. Hence the limbs 
Knit into force ; and the same Roman arm, 
That rose victorious o'er the conquer'd earth, 



104 SUMMER. 



Story of Damon and Musidora. 



First learn'd, while tender, to subdue the wave. 1265 
Even, from the body's purity, the mind 
Receives a secret sympathetic aid. 

Close in the covert of an hazel copse, 
Where winded into pleasing solitudes 
Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat, 1 270 
Pensive, and pierc'd with love's delightful pangs. 
There to the stream that down the distant rocks 
Hoarse-murmuring fell, and plaintivebreeze that play'd 
Among the bending willows, falsely he 
Of Musidora's cruelty complain'd. 1275 

She felt his flame ; but deep within her breast, 
In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride, 
The soft return conceal'd ; save when it stole 
In side-long glances from her downcast eye, 
Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs. 1280 

Touch'd by the scene, no stranger to his vows, 
He fram'd a melting lay, to try her heart ; 
And, if an infant passion struggled there, 
To call that passion forth. Thrice happy swain ! 
A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate 1285 

Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine. 
For lo ! conducted by the laughing Loves, 
This cool retreat his Musidora sought. 
Warm in her cheek the sultry season glow'd ; 



SUMMER. 105 



Story of Damon and Musidora. 



And, rob'd in loose array, she came to bathe 1290 

Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream. 

What shall he do ? In sweet confusion lost, 

And dubious flutterings, he a while remain'd : 

A pure ingenuous elegance of soul, 

A delicate refinement, known to few, 1295 

Perplex'd his breast, and urg'd him to retire : 

But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, say, 

Say, ye severest, what would you have done ? 

Meantime, this fairer nymph than ever blest 
Arcadian stream, with timid eye around 1300 

The banks surveying, stripp'd her beauteous limbs, 
To taste the lucid coolness of the flood. 
Ah then ! not Paris on the piny top 
Of Ida panted stronger, when aside 
The rival-goddesses the veil divine 1305 

Cast unconfinM, and gave him all their charms, 
Than, Damon, thou ; as from the snowy leg, 
And slender foot, th' inverted silk she drew ; 
As the soft touch dissolv'd the virgin zone -, 
And, thro' the parting robe, th' alternate breast, 1310 
With youth wild-throbbing, on thy lawless gaze 
In full luxuriance rose. But, desperate youth, 
How durst thou risque the soul-distracting view, 
As from her naked limbs, of glowing white, 



106 SUMMER. 



Story of Damon and Musidora. 



Harmonious swell'd by Nature's finest hand, 1315 

In folds loose-floating fell the fainter lawn ; 

And fair-expos'd she stood, shrunk from herself, 

With fancy blushing, at the doubtful breeze 

Alarm'd, and starting like the fearful fawn ? 

Then to the flood she rush'd ; the parted flood 1320 

Its lovely guest with closing waves receiv'd -, 

And every beauty softening, every grace 

Flushing anew, a mellow lustre shed : 

As shines the lily thro' the crystal mild ; 

Or as the rose amid the morning dew, 1325 

Fresh from Aurora's hand, more sweetly glows. 

While thus she wanton'd, now beneath the wave 
But ill-conceal'd ; and now with streaming locks, 
That half-embrac'd her in a humid veil, 
Rising again, the latent Damon drew 1330 

Such madning draughts of beauty to the soul, 
As for a while o'erwhelm'd his raptur'd thought 
With luxury too daring. Check'd, at last, 
By love's respectful modesty, he deem'd 
The theft profane, if aught profane to love 1335 

Can e'er be deem'd ; and, struggling from the shade, 
With headlong hurry fled : but first these lines, 
Trac'd by his ready pencil, on the bank 
With trembling hand he threw : " Bathe on, my fair, 






SUMMER. 107 



Story of Damon and Musidora. 






" Yet unbeheld save by the sacred eye 1340 

" Of faithful love : I go to guard thy haunt ; 

" To keep from thy recess each vagrant foot, 

cc And each licentious eye." With wild surprise, 

As if to marble struck, devoid of sense, 

A stupid moment motionless she stood : 1345 

So stands the statue that enchants the world ; 

So bending tries to veil the matchless boast, 

The mingled beauties of exulting Greece. 

Recovering, swift she flew to find those robes 
Which blissful Eden knew not; and, array'd 1350 
In careless haste, th' alarming paper snatch'd. 
But, when her Damon's well-known hand she saw, 
Her terrors vanish'd, and a softer train 
Of mixt emotions, hard to be describ'd, 
Her sudden bosom seiz'd : shame void of guilt -, 1355 
The charming blush of innocence ; esteem 
And admiration of her lover's flame, 
By modesty exalted : ev'n a sense 
Of self-approving beauty stole across 
Her busy thought. At length, a tender calm 1360 
Hush'd by degrees the tumult of her soul ; 
And on the spreading beech, that o'er the stream 
Incumbent hung, she with the sylvan pen 
Of rural lovers, this confession carv'd, 



108 SUMMER. 



Evening described. 



Which soon her Damon kiss'd with weeping joy: 1365 

" Dear youth! sole judge of what these verses mean; 

cc By fortune too much favour'd, but by love, 

" Alas ! not favour'd less ; be still as now 

" Discreet; the time may come you need not fly." 

The sun has lost his rage : his downward orb 1370 
Shoots nothing now but animating warmth, 
And vital lustre ; that, with various ray, 
Lights up the clouds,those beauteous robesof Heaven, 
Incessant roll'd into romantic shapes, 
The dream of waking fancy! Broad below, 1375 
Cover'd with ripening fruits, and swelling fast 
Into the perfect year, the pregnant earth 
And all her tribes rejoice. Now the soft hour 
Of walking comes : for him who lonely loves 
To seek the distant hills, and there converse 1380 
With Nature ; there to harmonize his heart, 
And in pathetic song to breathe around 
The harmony to others. Social friends, 
Attun'd to happy unison of soul ; 
To whose exalting eye a fairer world, 1385 

Of which the vulgar never had a glimpse, 
Displays its charms ; whose minds are richly fraught 
With philosophic stores, superior light ; 
And in whose breast, enthusiastic, burns 






SUMMER. 109 



The "River Thames. 



Virtue, the sons of interest deem romance ; 1390 

Now call'd abroad enjoy the falling day : 

Now to the verdant Portico of woods, 

To Nature's vast Lyceum, forth they walk ; 

By that kind School where no proud master reigns, 

The full free converse of the friendly heart, 1395 

Improving and improv'd. Now from the world, 

Sacred to sweet retirement, lovers steal, 

And pour their souls in transport ; which the Sire 

Of love approving hears, and calls it good. 1399 

Which way, Amanda, shall we bend our course ? 
The choice perplexes. Wherefore should we chuse ? 
All is the same with thee. Say, shall we wind 
Along the streams ? or walk the smiling mead ? 
Or court the forest-glades ? or wander wild 
Among the waving harvests ? or ascend, 1405 

While radiant Summer opens all its pride, 
Thy hill, delightful Shene ? Here let us sweep 
The boundless landskip : now the raptur'd eye, 
Exulting swift, to huge Augusta send ; 
Now to the Sister-hills that skirt her plain ; 1 410 

To lofty Harrow now, and now to where 
Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow. 

In lovely contrast to this glorious view, 
Calmly magnificent, then will we turn 



110 SUMMER. 



The River Thames. 



To where the silver Thames first rural grows. 1415 

There let the feasted eye unwearied stray : 

Luxurious, there, rove thro' the pendant woods 

That nodding hang o'er Harrington's retreat; 

And, stooping thence to Ham's embowering walks, 

Beneath whose shades in spotless peace retir'd, 1420 

With Her the pleasing partner of his heart, 

The worthy Q.ueensb'ry yet laments his Gay; 

And polish'd Cornbury wooes the willing Muse. 

Slow Jet us trace the matchless Vale of Thames ; 

Fair-winding up to where the Muses haunt 1425 

In Twit'nam's bowers, and for their Pope implore 

The healing God ; to royal Hampton's pile ; 

To Clermont's terrass'd height ; and Esher's groves; 

Where in the sweetest solitude, emtwac'd 

By the soft windings of the silent Mole, 1430 

From courts and senates Pelham finds repose. 

Inchanting vale ! beyond whate'er the Muse 

Has of Achaia or Hesperia sung ! 

O vale of bliss ! O softly-swelling hills ! 

On which the Power of Cultivation lies, 1435 

And joys to see the wonders of his toil. 

Heavens! what a goodly prospect spreads around, 
Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires, 
And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all 



SUMMER. in 



A Panegyric on Britain. 



The stretching landskip into smoke decays ! 1440 

Happy Britannia ! where the Queen of Arts, 

Inspiring vigour, Liberty abroad 

Walks, unconfin'd, even to thy farthest cots, 

And scatters plenty with unsparing hand. 

Rich is thy soil, and merciful thy clime ; 1445 

Thy streams unfailing in the Summer's drought ; 
Unmatch'd thy guardian-oaks ; thy valleys float 
With golden waves: and on thy mountains flocks 
Bleat numberless 3 while, roving round their sides, 
Bellow the blackening herds in lusty droves. 1450 
Beneath, thy meadows glow, and rise unquell'd 
Against the mower's scythe. On every hand 
Thy villas shine. Thy country teems with wealth 5 
And property assures it to the swain, 
Pleas'd and unwearied in his guarded toil. 1455 

Full are thy cities with the sons of art ; 
And trade and joy, in every busy street, 
Mingling are heard : even Drudgery himself, 
As at the car he sweats, or dusty hews 
The palace-stone, looks gay. Thy crowded ports, 
Where rising masts an endless prospect yield, 1461 
With labour burn \ and echo to the shouts 
Of hurried sailor, as he hearty waves 



112 SUMMER. 



British Worthies. 



His last adieu ; and loosening every sheet, 

Resigns the spreading vessel to the wind. 1465 

Bold, firm, and graceful, are thy generous youth, 
By hardship sinew'd, and by danger fir'd ; 
Scattering the nations where they go ; and first 
Or on the listed plain, or stormy seas. 
Mild are thy glories too, as o'er the plans 1470 

Of thriving peace thy thoughtful sires preside ; 
In genius, and substantial learning, high ; 
For every virtue, every worth, renown'd -, 
Sincere, plain-hearted, hospitable, kind ; 
Yet like the mustering thunder when provok'd, 1475 
The dread of tyrants, and the sole resource 
Of those that under grim oppression groan. 

Thy Sons of Glory many ! Alfred thine ; 
In whom the splendour of heroic war 
And more heroic peace, when govern'd well, 148Q 
Combine ; whose hallow'd name the virtues saint, 
And his own Muses love ; the best of Kings ! 
With him thy Edwards and thy Henrys shine, 
Names dear to Fame ; the first who deep impress'd 
On haughty Gaul the terror of thy arms, 1485 

That awes her genius still. In Statesmen thou, 
And Patriots, fertile. Thine a steady More, 



SUMMER. 113 



British Worthies 



Who, with a generous tho' mistaken zeal, 

Withstood a brutal tyrant's useful rage, 

Like Cato firm, like Aristides just, 1490 

Like rigid Cincinnatus nobly poor ; 

A dauntless soul erect, who smil'd on death. 

Frugal, and wise, a Walsingham is thine ; 
A Drake, who made thee mistress of the deep, 
And bore thy name in thunder round the world. 1495 
Then flam'd thy spirit high : but who can speak 
The numerous worthies of the Maiden Reign ? . 
In Raleigh mark their every glory mix'd ; 
Raleigh, the scourge of Spain ! whose breast with all 
The sage, the patriot, and the hero burn'd. 1500 

Nor sunk his vigour, when a coward-reign 
The warrior fettered ; and at last resign'd, 
To glut the vengeance of a vanquish'd foe. 
Then, active still and unrestrain'd, his mind 
Explored the vast extent of ages past, 1505 

And with his prison-hours enrich'd the world ; 
Yet found no times, in all the long research, 
So glorious, or so base, as those he prov'd, 
In which he conquer'd, and in which he bled. 

Nor can the Muse the gallant Sidney pass, 1510 
The plume of w T ar ! with early laurels crown'd, 

i 



114 SUMMER. 



British Worthies. 



The Lover's myrtle, and the Poet's bay. 
A Hamden too is thine, illustrious land ! 
Wise, strenuous, firm, of unsubmitting soul ; 
Who stem'd the torrent of a downward age 1515 
To slavery prone, and bade thee rise again, 
In all thy native pomp of freedom bold. 
Bright, at his call, thy Age of Men effulg'd, 
Of Men on whom late time a kindling eye 
Shall turn, and tyrants tremble while they read. 1520 
Bring every sweetest flower, and let me strew 
The grave where Russel lies; whose temper'd blood, 
With calmest cheerfulness for thee resign'd, 
Stain'd the sad annals of a giddy reign 5 
Aiming at lawless power, tho' meanly sunk 1525 

In loose inglorious luxury. With him 
His friend, the British Cassius, fearless bled ; 
Of high determin'd spirit, roughly brave, 
By ancient learning to th' enlightened love 
Of ancient freedom warm'd. Fair thy renown 1530 
In awful Sages and in noble Bards ; 
Soon as the light of dawning Science spread 
Her orient ray, and wak'd the Muses' song. 
Thine is a Bacon ; hapless in his choice, 
Unfit to stand the civil storm of state, 1535 









SUMMER. 115 



British Worthies. 



And thro* the smooth barbarity of courts, 
With firm but pliant virtue, forward still 
To urge his course ; him for the studious shade 
Kind Nature form'd ; deep, comprehensive, clear, 
Exact, and elegant ; in one rich soul, 1540 

Plato, the Stagyrite, and Tully join'd. 
The great deliverer he ! who from the gloom 
Of cloistered monks, and jargon-teaching schools, 
Led forth the true Philosophy, there long 
Held in the magic chain of words and forms, 1545 
And definitions void : he led her forth, 
Daughter of Heaven ! that slow-ascending still, 
Investigating sure the chain of things, 
With radiant finger points to Heaven again. 1549 
The generous Ashley thine, the friend of Man; 
Who scann'd his Nature with a brother's eye, 
His weakness prompt to shade, to raise his aim, 
To touch the finer movements of the mind, 
And with the moral beauty charm the heart. 
Why need I name thy Boyle, whose pious search 
Amid the dark recesses of his works, 1556 

The great Creator sought? And why thy Locke, 
Who made the whole internal world his own ? 
Let Newton, pure Intelligence ! whom God 



116 SUMMER. 



British Fair described. 



To mortals lent, to trace his boundless works 1560 

From laws sublimely simple, speak thy fame 

In all philosophy. For lofty sense, 

Creative fancy, and inspection keen 

Thro' the deep windings of the human heart, 1664 

Is not wild Shakespeare thine and Nature's boast ? 

Is not each great, each amiable Muse 

Of classic ages in thy Milton met ? 

A genius universal as his theme ; 

Astonishing as Chaos ; as the bloom 

Of blowing Eden fair; as Heaven sublime. 1570 

Nor shall my verse that elder bard forget, 
The gentle Spenser, Fancy's pleasing son ; 
Who, like a copious river, pour'd his song 
O'er all the mazes of enchanted ground : 
Nor thee, his ancient master, laughing sage, 1575 
Chaucer, whose native manners-painting verse, 
Well-moraliz'd, shines thro' the Gothic cloud 
Of time and language o'er thy genius thrown. 

May my song soften, as thy Daughters I, 
Britannia, hail ! for beauty is their own, 1580J 

The feeling heart, simplicity of life, 
And elegance, and taste ; the faultless form, 
Shap'd by the hand of harmony ; the cheek, 



SUMMER. 117 



British Fair described. 






Where the live crimson, thro* the native white 

Soft-shooting, o'er the face diffuses bloom, 1585 

And every nameless grace ; the parted lip, 

Like the red rose-bud moist with morning-dew, 

Breathing delight ; and, under flowing jet, 

Or sunny ringlets, or of circling brown, 

The neck slight-shaded, and the swelling breast; 1590 

The look resistless, piercing to the soul, 

And by the soul inform'd, when drest in love 

She sits high-smiling in the conscious eye. 

Island of bliss ! amid the subject seas, 
That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up, 1595 
At once the wonder, terror, and delight, 
Of distant nations ; whose remotest shores 
Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm ; 
Not to be shook thyself; but all assaults 
Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea-wave. 1600 

O Thou ! by whose almighty Nod the scale 
Of empire rises, or alternate falls ; 
Send forth the saving Virtues round the land, 
In bright patrol ; white Peace, and social Love ; 
The tender-looking Charity, intent 1605 

On gentle deeds, and shedding tears thro* smiles ; 
Undaunted Truth, and Dignity of mind ; 



118 SUMMER. 



Decline of Day. 



Courage compos'd, and keen ; sound Temperance, 

Healthful in heart and look ; clear Chastity, 

With blushes reddening as she moves along, 1610 

Disorder'd at the deep regard she draws ; 

Rough Industry; Activity untir'd, 

With copious life inform'd, and all awake ; 

While in the radiant front, superior shines 

That first paternal virtue, Public Zeal ; 1615 

Who throws o'er all an equal wide survey ; 

And, ever musing on the common weal, 

Still labours glorious with some great design. 

Low walks the sun, and broadens by degrees, 
Just o'er the verge of day. The shifting clouds 1620 
Assembled gay, a richly-gorgeous train, 
In all their pomp attend his setting throne. 
Air, earth, and ocean, smile immense. And now, 
As if his weary chariot sought the bowers 
Of Amphitrite, and her tending nymphs, 1625 

(So Grecian fable sung) he dips his orb ; 
Now half-immers'd ; and now a golden curve 
Gives one bright glance, then total disappears. 

For ever running an enchanted round, 
Passes the day, deceitful, vain, and void ; 1630 

As fleets the vision o'er the formful brain, 



SUMMER. 119 



A Summer Evening: described. 



This moment hurrying wild th' impassion'd soul. 
The next in nothing lost. 'T is so to him, 
The dreamer of this earth, an idle blank; 
A sight of horror to the cruel wretch, 1635 

Who all day long in sordid pleasure roll'd, 
Himself an useless load, has squander'd vile, 
Upon his scoundrel train, what might have cheer'd 
A drooping family of modest worth. 
But to the generous still-improving mind, 1640 

That gives the hopeless heart to sing for joy, 
Diffusing kind beneficence around, 
Boastless, as now descends the silent dew ; 
To him the long review of order'd life 
Is inward rapture, only to be felt. 1645 

Confess'd from yonder slow-extinguishM clouds, 
All ether softening, sober Evening takes 
Her wonted station in the middle air; 
A thousand shadows at her beck. First this 
She sends on earth ; then that of deeper die 1650 
Steals soft behind ; and then a deeper still, 
In circle following circle, gathers round, 
To close the face of things. A fresher gale 
Begins to wave the wood, and stir the stream, 
Sweeping with shadowy gust the fields of corn; 1655 



120 SUMMER. 



Proofs of genuine Love. 



While the quail clamours for his running mate. 

AVide o'er the thistly lawn, as swells the breeze, 

A whitening shower of vegetable down 

Amusive floats. The kind impartial care 

Of Nature nought disdains : thoughtful to feed 1660 

Her lowest sons, and clothe the coming year, 

From field to field the feather'd seeds she wings. 

His folded flock secure, the shepherd home 
Hies, merry-hearted : and by turns relieves 
The ruddy milk-maid of her brimming pail ; 1665 
The beauty whom perhaps his witless heart, 
Unknowing what the joy-mixt anguish means, 
Sincerely loves, by that best language shown 
Of cordial glances, and obliging deeds. 
Onward they pass, o'er many a panting height, 1670 
And valley sunk, and unfrequented; where 
At fall of eve the fairy people throng, 
In various game, and revelry, to pass 
The summer-night, as village stories tell. 
But far about they wander from the grave 1675 

Of him, whom his ungentle fortune urg'd 
Against his own sad breast to lift the hand 
Of impious violence. The lonely tower 
Is also shun'd - s whose mournful chambers hold, 









SUMMER. 121 



Ghosts the Dreams of Fancy. — Motions of the Planets. 

So night-struck Fancy dreams, the yelling ghost. 1680 

Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge, 
The glow-worm lights his gem ; and, thro* the dark, 
A moving radiance twinkles. Evening yields 
The world to Night ; not in her winter-robe 
Of massy Stygian woof, but loose array'd 1685 

In mantle dun. A faint erroneous ray, 
Glanc'd from th' imperfect surfaces of things, 
Flings half an image on the straining eye; 
While wavering woods, and villages, and streams, 
And rocks, and mountain-tops, that long-retain'd 1690 
Th' ascending gleam, are all one swimming scene, 
Uncertain if beheld. Sudden to heaven 
Thence weary vision turns; where, leading soft 
The silent hours of love, with purest ray 
Sweet Venus shines ; and from her genial rise, 1695 
When daylight sickens till it springs afresh, 
Unrival'd reigns, the fairest lamp of night. 

As thus th' effulgence tremulous I drink, 
With cherish'd gaze, the lambent lightnings shoot 
Across the sky; or horizontal dart 1700 

In wondrous shapes ; by fearful murmuring crowds 
Portentous deem'd. Amid the radiant orbs, 
That more than deck, that animate the sky, 



122 SUMMER. 



Motions of the Planets. 



The life-infusing suns of other worlds ; 

Lo ! from the dread immensity of space 1705 

Returning, with accelerated course, 

The rushing comet to the sun descends; 

And as he sinks below the shading earth, 

With awful train projected o'er the heavens, 

The guilty nations tremble. But, above 1710 

Those superstitious horrors that enslave 

The fond sequacious herd, to mystic faith 

And blind amazement prone, the enlighten'd few, 

Whose godlike minds philosophy exalts, 

The glorious stranger hail. They feel a joy 1715 

Divinely great; they in their powers exult, 

That wondrous force of thought, which mounting spurns 

This dusky spot, and measures all the sky; 

While, from his far excursion thro' the wilds 

Of barren ether, faithful to his time, 1720 

They see the blazing wonder rise anew, 

In seeming terror clad, but kindly bent 

To work the will of all-sustaining Love; 

From his huge vapoury train perhaps to shake 

Reviving moisture on the numerous orbs, 1725 

Thro' which his long ellipsis winds; perhaps 

To lend new fuel to. declining suns, 



SUMMER. 123 



Praise of Philosophy. 



To light up worlds, and feed th' eternal fire. 

With thee, serene Philosophy, with thee, 
And thy bright garland, let me crown my song! 1730 
Effusive source of evidence, and truth ! 
A lustre shedding o'er th' ennobled mind, 
Stronger than summer-noon ; and pure as that, 
Whose mild vibrations sooth the parted soul, 
New to the dawning of celestial day, 1735 

Hence thro' her nourish'd powers, enlarg'd by thee, 
She springs aloft, with elevated pride, 
Above the tangling mass of low desires, 
That bind the fluttering crowd ; and, angel-wing'd, 
The heights of science and of virtue gains, 1740 
Where all is calm and clear ; with Nature round, 
Or in the starry regions, or th' abyss, 
To Reason's and to Fancy's eye display'd : 
The first up-tracing, from the dreary void, 
The chain of causes and effects, to Him, 1745 

The world-producing Essence! who alone 
Possesses being; while the last receives 
The whole magnificence of heaven and earth, 
And every beauty, delicate or bold, 
Obvious or more remote, with livelier sense, 1750 
Diffusive painted on the rapid mind. 



124 SUMMER. 



Praise of Philosophy. 



Tutor'd by thee, hence Poetry exalts 
Her voice to ages; and informs the page 
With music, image, sentiment, and thought, 
Never to die! the treasure of mankind ! 1755 

Their highest honour, and their truest joy! 

Without thee, what were unenlighten'd Man? 
A savage roaming thro' the woods and wilds, 
In quest of prey ; and with th' unfashion'd fur 
Rough clad; devoid of every finer art, 1760 

And elegance of life. Nor happiness 
Domestic, mix'd of tenderness and care, 
Nor moral excellence, nor social bliss, 
Nor guardian law were his; nor various skill 
To turn the furrow, or to guide the tool 1765 

Mechanic; nor the heaven-conducted prow 
Of navigation bold, that fearless braves 
The burning line or dares the wintry pole; 
Mother severe of infinite delights ! 
Nothing, save rapine, indolence, and guile, 1770 

And woes on woes, a still-revolving train ! 
Whose horrid circle had made human life 
Than non-existence worse : but, taught by thee, 
Ours are the plans of policy, and peace ; 
To live like brothers, and conjunctive all 1775 



SUMMER. 125 



Praise of Philosophy. 



Embellish life. While thus laborious crowds 

Ply the tough oar, Philosophy directs 

The ruling helm; or like the liberal breath 

Of potent Heaven, invisible, the sail 

Swells out, and bears th' inferior world along. 1780 

Nor to this evanescent speck of earth 
Poorly confin'd, the radiant tracts on high 
Are her exalted range ; intent to gaze 
Creation through: and, from that full complex 
Of never-ending wonders, to conceive 1785 

Of the Sole Being right, who spoke the word, 
And Nature mov'd complete. With inward view, 
Thence on th' ideal kingdom swift she turns 
Her eye; and instant, at her powerful glance, 
Th' obedient phantoms vanish or appear; 1790 

Compound, divide, and into order shift, 
Each to his rank, from plain perception up 
To the fair forms of Fancv's fleeting: train: 
To reason then, deducing truth from truth; 
And notion quite abstract; w T here first begins 1795 
The world of spirits, action all, and life 
Unfetter'd, and unmixt. But here the cloud, 
So wills Eternal Providence, sits deep. 
Enough for us to know that this dark state, 



126 SUMMER. 



Praise of Philosophy. 



In wayward passions lost, and vain pursuits, 1800 

This Infancy of Being, cannot prove 

The final issue of the works of God; 

By boundless Love and perfect Wisdom form'd, 

And ever rising with the rising mind. 



AUTU 



THE ARGUMENT. 



The subject proposed. Addressed to Mr. Onslow. A prospect of the fields 
ready for harvest. Reflections in praise of industry raised by that view. 
Reaping. A tale relative to it. A harvest-storm. Shooting and hunting, 
their barbarity. A ludicrous account of fox-hunting. A view of an or- 
chard. Wall-fruit. A vineyard. A description of fogs, frequent in the 
latter part of Autumn: whence a digression, inquiring into the rise of 
fountains and rivers. Birds of season considered, that now shift their 
habitation. The prodigious number of them that cover the northern and 
western isles of Scotland. Hence a view of the country. A prospect of 
the discoloured, fading woods. After a gentle dusky day, moon-light. 
Autumnal meteors. Morning : to which succeeds a calm, pure, sun-shiny 
day, such as usually shuts up the season. The harvest being gathered in, 
the country dissolved in joy. The whole concludes with a panegyric on 
a philosophical country life. 




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A U T U M W . 

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Fublufted by Vernor & Mood, Foulzry.idoi . 



AUTU 






BOOK III. 



Inscribed to Mr. Onslow. 



l^ROWN'D with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf, 
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain, 
Conies jovial on; the Doric reed once more, 
Well pleas'd, I tune. Whate'er the Wintry frost 
Nitrous prepaid ; the various-blossom'd Spring 5 
Put in white promise forth; and Summer-suns 
Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view; 
Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme. 

Onslow! the Muse, ambitious of thy name, 
To grace, inspire, and dignify her song, 10 

Would from the Public Voice thy gentle ear 
Awhile engage. Thy noble cares she knows, 
The patriot virtues that distend thy thought, 
Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow; 

K 



130 AUTUMN. 






Autumn described. 

While listening senates hang upon thy tongue, 15 
Devolving thro' the maze of eloquence 
A roll of periods, sweeter than her song. 
But she too pants for public virtue; she, 
Tho* weak of power, yet strong in ardent will, 
Whene'er her country rushes on her heart, 20 

Assumes a bolder note ; and fondly tries 
To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame. 

When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days^ 
And Libra weighs in equal scales the year; 
From heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook 
Of parting Summer, a serener blue, 26 

With golden light enliven'd, wide invests 
The happy world. Attemper'd suns arise, 
Sweet-beam'd, and shedding oft thro' lucid clouds 
A pleasing calm ; while broad, and brown, below 30 
Extensive harvests hang the heavy head. 
Rich, silent, deep, they stand; for not a gale 
Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain: 
A calm of plenty ! till the ruffled air 
Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow. 35 
Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky; 
The clouds fly different; and the sudden sun 
By fits effulgent gilds th' illumin'd field, 
And black by fits the shadows sweep along. 



AUTUMN. 131 



Blessings of Industry. 



A gaily-checker'd heart-expanding view, 40 

Far as the circling eye can shoot around, • 
Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn. 

These are thy blessings, Industry! rough power! 
Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain; 
Yet the kind source of every gentle art, 45 

And all the soft civility of life : 
Raiser of human kind ! by Nature cast, 
Naked, and helpless, out amid the woods 
And wilds, to rude inclement elements ; 
With various seeds of art deep in the mind 50 

Implanted, and profusely pour'd around 
Materials infinite; but idle all. 
Still unexerted, in th* unconscious breast, 
Slept the lethargic powers; corruption still, 
Voracious, swallow'd what the liberal hand 55 

Of bounty scattered o'er the savage year: 
And still the sad barbarian, roving, mix'd 
With beasts of prey; or for his acorn-meal 
Fought the fierce tusky boar; a shivering wretch ! 
Aghast, and comfortless, when the bleak north, 60 
With winter charg'd, let the mix'd tempest fly, 
Hail, rain, and snow, and bitter-breathing frost: 
Then to the shelter of the hut he fled; 
And the wild season, sordid, pin'd away, 



132 AUTUMN. 



Blessings of Industry. 



For home he had not; home is the resort 65 

Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty ; where, 

Supporting and supported, polish'd friends, 

And dear relations, mingle into bliss. 

But this the rugged savage never felt, 

Ev'n desolate in crowds; and thus his days 

Roll'd heavy, dark, and unenjoy'd along: 

A waste of time ! till Industry approach'd, 

And rous'd him from his miserable sloth : 

His faculties unfolded; pointed out, 

Where lavish Nature the directing hand 

Of Art demanded; show'd him how to raise 

His feeble force by the mechanic powers; 

To dig the mineral from the vaulted earth; 

On what to turn the piercing rage of fire ; 

On what the torrent, and the gather'd blast; 80 

Gave the tall ancient forest to his axe; 

Taught him to chip the wood, and hew the stone, 

Till by degrees the finish'd fabric rose; 

Tore from his limbs the blood-polluted fur, 

And wrapt them in the woolly vestment warm, 85 

Or bright in glossy silk, and flowing lawn; 

With wholesome viands fill'd his table; pour'd 

The generous glass around, inspir'd to wake 

The life-refining soul of decent wit: 



AUTUMN. 133 



The Benefits of Society. 



Nor stopp'd at barren bare necessity; 90 

But still advancing bolder, led him on 

To pomp, to pleasure, elegance, and grace; 

And, breathing high ambition thro' his soul, 

Set science, wisdom, glory, in his view, 

And bade him be the Lord of all below. 95 

THENgath'ring men their natural powers combin'd, 
And form'd a Public; to the general good 
Submitting, aiming, and conducting all. 
For this the Patriot Council met, the full, 
The free, and fairly represented Whole ; 100 

For this they plann'd the holy guardian laws; 
Distinguish'd orders, animated arts, 
And with joint force Oppression chaining, set 
Imperial Justice at the helm; yet still 
To them accountable: nor slavish dream'd 105 

That toiling millions must resign their weal, 
And all the honey of their search, to such 
As for themselves alone themselves have rais'd 

Hence every form of cultivated life 
In order set, protected, and inspir'd, 1 10 

Into perfect wrought. Uniting all, 
Society grew numerous, liigh, polite, 
And happy. Nurse of art! the city rear'd 
In beauteous pride her tower-encircled head; 



134 AUTUMN. 






Commerce the Parent of Wealth. 






And, stretching street on street,by thousands drew, 115 
From twining woody haunts, or the tough yew 
To bows strong-straining, her aspiring sons. 

Then Commerce brought into the public walk 
The busy merchant; the big warehouse built; 119 
Rais'd the strong crane; choak'd up the loaded street 
With foreign plenty; and thy stream, O Thames, 
Large, gentle, deep, majestic, king of floods ! 
Chose for his grand resort. On either hand, 
Like a long wintry forest, groves of masts 
Shot up their spires; the bellying sheet between 125 
Possess'd the breezy void; the sooty hulk 
Steer'd sluggish oh ; the splendid barge along 
Row'd, regular, to harmony; around, 
The boat, light-skimming, stretch 'd its oary wings; 
While deep the various voice of fervent toil 130 

From bank to bank increase ; whence ribb'dwith oak, 
To bear the British Thunder, black, and bold, 
The roaring vessel rush'd into the main. 

Then too the pillar'd dome, magnific, heav'd 
Its ample roof; and Luxury within 135 

Pour'd out her glittering stores: the canvas smooth, 
With glowing life protuberant, to the view 
Embodied rose ; the statue seem'd to breathe, 
And soften into flesh, beneath the touch 



AUTUMN. 135 



The Praises of Industry. — Description of Reaping. 

Of forming art, imagination-flush'd. 140 

All is the gift of Industry; whate'er 

Exalts, embellishes, and renders life 

Delightful. Pensive Winter cheer'd by him 

Sits at the social fire, and happy hears 

Th* excluded tempest idly rave along; 145 

His hardened fingers deck the gaudy Spring ; 

Without him Summer were an arid waste; 

Nor to th' Autumnal months could thus transmit 

Those full, mature, immeasurable stores, 

That, waving round, recall my wandering song. 150 
Soon as the morning trembles o'er the sky, 

And, unperceiv'd, unfolds the spreading day; 

Before the ripened field the reapers stand, 

In fair array; each by the lass he loves; 

To bear the rougher part, and mitigate 155 

By nameless gentle offices her toil. 

At once they stoop and swell the lusty sheaves; 

While thro' their cheerful band, the rural talk, 

The rural scandal, and the rural jest, 

Fly harmless; to deceive the tedious time, 160 

And steal unfelt the sultry hours away. 

Behind the master walks, builds up the shocks ; 

And, conscious, glancing oft on every side 

His sated eye, feels his heart heave with joy. 



136 AUTUMN. 



Story of Palemon and Lavinia. 



The gleaners spread around, and here and there, 165 
Spike after spike, their scanty harvest pick. 

Be not too narrow, husbandmen; but fling 
From the full- sheaf, with charitable stealth, 
The liberal handful, Think, oh grateful think! 
How good the God of Harvest is to you; 170 

Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields; 
While these unhappy partners of your kind 
Wide-hover round you, like the fowls of heaven, * 
And ask their humble dole. The various turns 
Of fortune ponder; that your sons may want 175 
What now, with hard reluctance, faint, ye give. 

The lovely young Lavinia once had friends, 
And Fortune smil'd, deceitful, on her birth; 
For, in her helpless years depriv'd of all, 
Of every stay, save Innocence and Heaven, 180 
She, with her widow'd mother, feeble, old, 
And poor, liv'd in a cottage, far retir'd 
Among the windings of a woody vale ; 
By solitude and deep surrounding shades, 
But more by bashful modesty conceaPd. 185 

Together thus they shunn'd the cruel scorn 
Which virtue, sunk to poverty, would meet 
From giddy passion and low-minded pride : 
Almost on Nature's common bounty fed; 



AUTUMN. 137 



Lavinia described. 



Like the gay birds that sung them to repose, 190 
Content, and careless of to-morrow's fare. 

Her form was fresher than the morning rose, 
When the dew wets its leaves ; unstain'd, and pure, 
As is the lily, or the mountain snow, 
The modest virtues mingled in her eyes, 195 

Still on the ground dejected, darting all 
Their humid beams into the blooming flowers : 
Or when the mournful tale her mother told, 
Of what her faithless fortune promis'd once, 
Thrill'd in her thought, they, like the dewy star 200 
Of evening, shone in tears. A native grace 
Sat fair-proportion'd on her polish'd limbs, 
Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire, 
Beyond the pomp of dress; for loveliness 
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, 205 

But is when unadorn'd adorn'd the most. 
Thoughtless of beauty, she was beauty's self, 
Recluse amid the close-embowering woods, 
As in the hollow breast of Appenine, 
Beneath the shelter of encircling hills, 210 

A myrtle rises, far from human eye, 
And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild ; 
So flourish'd blooming, and unseen by all, 
The sweet Lavinia ; till, at length, compell'd 



138 AUTUMN. 



Palemon described. 



By strong Necessity's supreme command, 215 

With smiling patience in her looks, she went 
To glean Palemon's fields. The pride of swains 
Palemon was, the generous and the rich ; 
Who led the rural life in all its joy 
And elegance, such as Arcadian song 220 

Transmits from ancient uncorrupted times ; 
When tyrant custom had not shackled Man, 
But free to follow Nature was the mode. 
He then, his fancy with autumnal scenes 
Amusing, chanc'd beside his reaper-train 225 

To walk, when poor Lavinia drew his eye; 
Unconscious of her power, and turning quick 
With unaffected blushes from his gaze: 
He saw her charming, but he saw not half 
The charms her downcast modesty conceal'd. 230 
That very moment love and chaste desire 
Sprung in his bosom, to himself unknown; 
For still the world prevail'd, and its dread laugh, 
Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn, 
Should his heart own a gleaner in the field ; 235 

And thus in secret to his soul he sigh'd : 
" What pity! that so delicate a form, 
" By beauty kindled, where enlivening sense 
" And more than vulgar goodness seem to dwell, 



AUTUMN. 139 



The Pleasures of a virtuous Passion. 



" Should be devoted to the rude embrace 240 

" Of some indecent clown! She looks, methinks, 

" Of old Acasto's line; and to my mind 

" Recalls that patron of my happy life, 

" From whom my liberal fortune took its rise ; 

" Now to the dust gone down; his houses, lands, 245 

" And once fair-spreading family, dissolv'd. 

" 'T is said that in some lone obscure retreat, 

" Urg'd by remembrance sad, and decent pride, 

" Far from those scenes which knew their better days, 

" His aged widow and his daughter live, 250 

" Whom yet my fruitless search could never find. 

" Romantic wish! would this the daughter were!" 

When, strict inquiring, from herself he found 
She was the same, the daughter of his friend, 
Of bountiful Acasto; who can speak 255 

The mingled passions that surpris'd his heart, 
And thro* his nerves in shivering transport ran? 
Then blaz'd his smother'd flame, avow'd and bold; 
And as he view'd her, ardent, o'er and o'er, 
Love, gratitude, and pity wept at once. 260 

Confus'd, and frightened at his sudden tears, 
Her rising beauties flush'd a higher bloom, 
As thus Palemon, passionate and just, 
Pour'd out the pious rapture of his soul : 



140 AUTUMN. 



Palemon's Address to Lavinia. 



cc And art thou then Acasto's dear remains ? 265 
" She, whom my restless gratitude has sought 
" So long in vain? O heavens! the very same, 
" The softened image of my noble friend ; 
cc Alive his every look, his every feature, 
u More elegantly touch'd. Sweeter than Spring ! 270 
" Thou sole surviving blossom from the root 
" That nourish'd up my fortune! say, ah where, 
" In what sequester'd desert, hast thou drawn 
" The kindest aspect of delighted Heaven? 
■" Into such beauty spread, and blown so fair; 275 
" Tho' poverty's cold wind, and crushing rain, 
" Beat keen, and heavy, on thy tender years? 
" O let me now, into a richer soil, 
" Transplant thee safe ; where vernal suns, andshowers, 
" Diffuse their warmest, largest influence; 280 

" And of my garden be the pride, and joy. 
" 111 it befits thee, oh it ill befits 
" Acasto's daughter, his whose open stores, 
" Tho' vast, were little to his ampler heart, 
" The father of a country, thus to pick 285 

" The very refuse of those harvest-fields, 
" Which from his bounteous friendship I enjoy. 
" Then throw that shameful pittance from thy hand, 
" But ill apply*d to such a rugged task. ; 



AUTUMN. J4i 



The Effects of a Storm described. 



" The fields, the master, all, my fair, are thine; 290 
" If to the various blessings which thy house 
" Has on me lavish'd, thou wilt add that bliss, 
" That dearest bliss, the power of blessing thee!" 

Here ceas'd the youth: yet still his speaking eye 
Express'd the sacred triumph of his soul, 295 

With conscious virtue, gratitude, and love, 
Above the vulgar joy divinely rais'd. 
Nor waited he reply. Won by the charm 
Of goodness irresistible, and all 
In sweet disorder lost, she blush'd consent. 300 

The news immediate to her mother brought, 
While, pierc'd with anxious thought, she pin'd away 
The lonely moments for Lavinia's fate; 
Amaz'd, and scarce believing what she heard, 
Joy seiz'd her wither'd veins, and one bright gleam 
Of setting life shone on her evening hours: 306 

Nor less enraptur'd than the happy pair; 
Wlio flourish'd long in tender bliss, and rear'd 
A numerous offspring, lovely like themselves, 
And good, the grace of all the country round. 310 

Defeating oft the labours of the year, 
The sultry south collects a potent blast. 
At first the groves are scarcely seen to stir 
Their trembling tops; and a still murmur runs 



142 AUTUMN. 



The Effects of a Storm described. 



Along the soft-inclining fields of corn. 315 

But as the aerial tempest fuller swells, 

And in one mighty stream, invisible, 

Immense ! the whole excited atmosphere 

Impetuous rushes o'er the sounding world ; 

Strain'd to the root, the stooping forest pours 320 

A rustling shower of yet untimely leaves. 

High-beat, the circling mountains eddy in, 

From the bare wild, the dissipated storm, 

And send it in a torrent down the vale. 

Expos'd, and naked, to its utmost rage, 325 

Thro' all the sea of harvest rolling round, 

The billowy plain floats wide; nor can evade, 

Tho' pliant to the blast, its seizing force ; 

Or whirl'd in air, or into vacant chaff 

Shook waste. And sometimes too a burst of rain, 330 

Swept from the black horizon, broad, descends 

In one continuous flood. Still over head 

The mingled tempest weaves its gloom, and still 

The deluge deepens; till the fields around 

Lie sunk, and flatted, in the sordid wave. 335 

Sudden, the ditches swell; the meadows swim. 

Red, from the hills, innumerable streams 

Tumultuous roar; and high above its banks 

The river lift;, before whose rushing tide, 



AUTUMN. 143 



The Sportsman. 



Herds, flocks, and harvests, cottages, and swains, 340 
Roll mingled down; all that the winds had spar'd 
In one wild moment ruin'd; the big hopes, 
And well-earn'd treasures of the painful year. 

Fled to some eminence, the husbandman 
Helpless beholds the miserable wreck 345 

Driving along; his drowning ox at once 
Descending, with his labours scatter'd round, 
He sees; and instant o'er his shivering thought 
Comes Winter unprovided, and a train 
Of clamant children dear. Ye masters, then, 350 
Be mindful of the rough laborious hand, 
That sinks you soft in elegance and ease; 
Be mindful of those limbs in russet clad, 
Whose toil to yours is warmth, and graceful pride ; 
And oh be mindful of that sparing board 355 

Which covers yours with luxury profuse; 
Makes your glass sparkle, and your sense rejoice; 
Nor cruelly demand what the deep rains, 
And all-involving winds have swept away. 

Here the rude clamour of the sportsman's joy, 360 
The gun fast-thundering, and the winded horn, 
Would tempt the Muse to sing the rural Game: 
How, in his mid-career, the spaniel struck, 
Stiff, by the tainted gale, with open nose, 



144 AUTUMN. 



The Sportsman. 



Out-stretch'd, and finely sensible, draws full, 365 
Fearful, and cautious, on the latent prey; 
As in the sun the circling covey bask 
Their varied plumes, and watchful every way, 
Thro' the rough stubble turn the secret eye. 
Caught in the meshy snare, in vain they beat 370 
Their idle wings, entangled more and more : 
Nor on the surges of the boundless air, 
Tho' borne triumphant, are they safe; the gun 
Glanc'd just, and sudden, from the fowler's eye, 
O'ertakes their sounding pinions; and again, 375 
Immediate, brings them from the towering wing, 
Dead to the ground; or drives them wide-dispers'd, 
Wounded, and wheeling various, down the wind. 
These are not subjects for the peaceful muse, 
Nor will she stain with such her spotless song; 380 
Then most delighted, when she social sees 
The whole mix'd animal-creation round 
Alive, and happy. 'T is not joy to her, 
This falsely-cheerful barbarous game of death; 
This rage of pleasure, which the restless youth 385 
Awakes, impatient, with the gleaming morn; 
When beasts of prey retire, that all night long, 
Urg'd by necessity, had rang'd the dark; 
As if their conscious ravage shun'd the light, 






AUTUMN. 145 



Cruelty of Hunting. 



Asham'd. Not so the steady tyrant man, 39Q 

Who with the thoughtless insolence of power 

Inflam'd, beyond the most infuriate wrath 

Of the worst monster that e'er roam'd the waste, 

For sport alone pursues the cruel chase, 

Amid the beamings of the gentle days. 395 

Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage, 

For hunger kindles you, and lawless want; 

But lavish fed, in Nature's bounty roll'd, 

To joy at anguish, and delight in blood, 

Is what your horrid bosoms never knew. 400 

Poor is the triumph o'er the timid hare, 
Scar'd from the corn, and now to some lone seat 
Retir'd: the rushy fen; the ragged furze, 
Stretch'd o'er the stony heath; the stubble chapt; 
The thistly lawn; the thick-entangled broom; 405 
Of the same friendly hue, the wither'd fern; 
The fallow ground laid open to the sun, 
Concoctive; and the nodding sandy bank, 
Hung o'er the mazes of the mountain brook. 
Vain is her best precaution; tho' she sits 410 

Conceal'd, with folded ears; unsleeping eyes, 
By Nature rais'd to take th' horizon in; 
And head couch'd close betwixt her hairy feet, 
In act to spring away. The scented dew 



146 AUTUMN. 



Cruelty of Hunting. 



Betrays her early labyrinth; and deep, 415 

In scatter'd sullen openings, far behind, 

With every breeze she hears the corning storm. 

But nearer, and more frequent, as it loads 

The sighing gale, she springs amaz'd; and all 

The savage soul of game is up at once : 420 

The pack full-opening, various; the shrill horn 

Resounded from the hills; the neighing steed, 

Wild for the chase; and the loud hunter's shout; 

O'er a weak, harmless, flying creature, all 

Mix'd in mad tumult, and discordant joy. 425 

The stag too, singled from the herd, where long 
He rang'd the branching monarch of the shades, 
Before the tempest drives. At first, in speed, 
He, sprightly, puts his faith ; and rous'd by fear, 
Gives all his swift aerial soul to flight; 430 

Against the breeze he darts, that way the more 
To leave the lessening murderous cry behind : 
Deception short! tho' fleeter than the winds 
Blown o'er the keen-air'd mountain by the north, 
He bursts the thickets, glances thro' the glades, 435 
And plunges deep into the wildest wood; 
If slow, yet sure, adhesive to the track 
Hot-steaming, up behind him come again 
Th' inhuman rout, and from the shady depth 



AUTUMN. 147 



Hunting the Fox. 



Expel him, circling thro' his every shift. 440 

He sweeps the forest oft; and sobbing sees 

The glades, mild opening to the golden day; 

Where, in kind contest, with his butting friends 

He wont to struggle, or his loves enjoy. 

Oft in the full-descending flood he tries 445 

To lose the scent, and lave his burning sides: 

Oft seeks the herd; the watchful herd, alarm'd, 

With selfish care avoid a brother's woe. 

What shall he do? His once so vivid nerves, 

So full of buoyant spirit, now no more 450 

Inspire the course; but fainting breathless toil, 

Sick, seizes on his heart: he stands at bay; 

And puts his last weak refuge in despair. 

The big round tears run down his dappled face; 

He groans in anguish; while the growling pack, 455 

Blood happy, hang at his fair-jutting chest, 

And mark his beauteous checker'd sides with gore. 

Of this enough. But if the sylvan youth, 
Whose fervent blood boils into violence, 
Must have the chase; behold, despising flight, 460 
The rous'd-up lion, resolute, and slow, 
Advancing full on the protended spear, 
And coward-band, that circling wheel aloof. 
Slunk from the cavern, and the troubled wood, 



US AUTUMN, 



Hunting the Fox. 



See the grim wolf; on him his shaggy foe 465 

Vindictive fix, and let the ruffian die: 
Or, growling horrid, as the brindled boar 
Grins fell destruction, to the monster's heart 
Let the dart lighten from the nervous arm. 

These Britain knows not; give, ye Britons, then 
Your sportive fury, pitiless, to pour # 471 

Loose on the nightly robber of the fold: 
Him, from his craggy winding haunts unearth'd, 
Let all the thunder of the chase pursue. 
Throw the broad ditch behind you ; o'er the hedge 475 
High-bound, resistless; nor the deep morass 
Refuse, but thro' the shaking wilderness 
Pick your nice way; into the perilous flood 
Bear fearless, of the raging instinct full; 
And as you ride the torrent, to the banks 480 

Your triumph sound sonorous, running round, 
From rock to rock, in circling echoes tost; 
Then scale the mountains to their woody tops; 
Rush down the dangerous steep; and o'er the lawn, 
In fancy swallowing up the space between, 485 

Pour all your speed into the rapid game. 
For happy he! who tops the wheeling chase; 
FJas every maze evolv'd, and every guile 
Disclos'd; who knows the merits of the pack; 






AUTUMN. 149 



Hunting Entertainment. 



Who saw the villain seiz'd, and dying hard, 490 

Without complaint, tho' by an hundred mouths 

Relentless torn: O glorious he, beyond 

His daring peers! when the retreating horn 

Calls them to ghostly halls of grey renown, 

With woodland honours grac'd; the fox's fur, 495 

Depending decent from the roof; and spread 

Round the drear walls, with antic figures fierce, 

The stag's large front: he then is loudest heard, 

When the night staggers with severer toils; 

With feats Thessalian Centaurs never knew, 500 

And their repeated wonders shake the dome. 

But first the fuel'd chimney blazes wide; 
The tankards foam ; and the strong table groans 
Beneath the smoking sirloin, stretch'd immense 
From side to side; in which, with desperate knife, 505 
They deep incision make, and talk the while 
Of England's glory, ne'er to be defac'd, 
While hence they borrow vigour: or amain 
Into the pasty plung'd, at intervals, 
If stomach keen can intervals allow, 510 

Relating all the glories of the chase. 
Then sated Hunger bids his brother Thirst 
Produce the mighty bowl; the mighty bowl, 
S well'd high with fiery juice, steams liberal round 



150 AUTUMN. 



Hunting Entertainment. 



A potent gale; delicious, as the breath 515 

Of Maia to the love-sick shepherdess, 

On violets difFus'd, while soft she hears 

Her panting shepherd stealing to her arms. 

Nor wanting is the brown October, drawn, 

Mature and perfect, from his dark retreat 520 

Of thirty years; and now his honest front 

Flames in the light refulgent, not afraid 

Ev'n with the vineyard's best produce to vie. 

To cheat the thirsty moments, Whist a while 

Walks his dull round, beneath a cloud of smoke, 525 

Wreath'd, fragrant, from the pipe ; or the quick dice, 

In thunder leaping from the box, awake 

The sounding gammon: while romp-loving miss 

Is haul'd about, in gallantry robust. 

At last these puling idlenesses laid 530 

Aside, frequent and full, the dry divan 
Close in firm circle; and set, ardent, in 
For serious drinking. Nor evasion sly, 
Nor sober shift, is to the puking wretch 
Indulg'd apart; but earnest, brimming bowls 535 
Lave every soul, the table floating round, 
And pavement, faithless to the fuddled foot. 
Thus as they swim in mutual swill, the talk, 
Vociferous at once from twenty tongues, 539 



AUTUMN. 151 



Hunting Entertainment. 



Reels fast from theme to theme ; from horses, hounds, 
To church or mistress, politics or ghost r 
In endless mazes, intricate, perplex'd. 

Meantime, with sudden interruption, loud, 
Th' impatient catch bursts from the joyous heart; 
That moment touch'd is every kindred soul; 545 

And, opening in a full-mouth'd Cry of joy, 
The laugh, the slap, the jocund curse go round; 
While, from their slumbers shook, the kennell'd hounds 
Mix in the music of the day again. 
As when the tempest, that has vex'd the deep 550 
The dark night long, with fainter murmurs falls: 
So gradual sinks their mirth. Their feeble tongues, 
Unable to take up the cumbrous word, 
Lie quite dissolv'd. Before their maudlin eyes, 
Seen dim, and blue, the double tapers dance, 555 
Like the sun wading thro' the misty sky, 
Then, sliding soft, they drop. Confus'd above, 
Glasses and bottles, pipes and gazetteers, 
As if the table ev'n itself was drunk, 
Lie a wet broken scene; and wide, below, 560 

Is heap'd the social slaughter: where astride 
The lubber Power in filthy triumph sits, 
Slumbrous, inclining, still from side to side; 
And steeps them drench'd in potent sleep till morn. 



152 AUTUMN. 



Advice to the Fair Sex. — Female Employments. 

Perhaps some doctor, of tremendous paunch, 565 
Awful and deep, a black abyss of drink, 
Outlives them all; and from his bury'd flock 
Retiring, full of rumination sad, 
Laments the weakness of these latter times. 

But if the rougher sex by this fierce sport 570 
Is hurried wild, let not such horrid joy 
E'er stain the bosom of the British Fair. 
Far be the spirit of the chase from them; 
Uncomely courage, unbeseeming skill; 
To spring the fence, to rein the prancing steed; 575 
The cap, the whip, the masculine attire, 
In which they roughen to the sense, and all 
The winning softness of their sex is lost. 
In them 't is graceful to dissolve at woe; 
With every motion, every word, to wave 580 

Quick o'er the kindling cheek the ready blush; 
And from the smallest violence to shrink 
Unequal, then the loveliest in their fears; 
And by this silent adulation, soft, 
To their protection more engaging Man. 585 

O may their eyes no miserable sight, 
Save weeping lovers, see; a nobler game, 
Thro' Love's enchanting wiles pursued, yet fled, 
In chase ambiguous. May their tender limbs 



AUTUMN. 153 



Nutting described. 



Float in the loose simplicity of dress; 590 

And, fashion'd all to harmony, alone 

Know they to seize the captivated soul, 

In rapture warbled from love-breathing lips; 

To teach the lute to languish; with smooth step, 

Disclosing motion in its every charm, 595 

To swim along, and swell the mazy dance ; 

To train the foliage o'er the snowy lawn; 

To guide the pencil, turn the tuneful page ; 

To lend new flavour to the fruitful year, 

And heighten Nature's dainties; in their race 600 

To rear their graces into second life; 

To give Society its highest taste; 

Well-ordered Home Man's best delight to make; 

And by submissive wisdom, modest skill, 

With every gentle care-eluding art, 605 

To raise the virtues, animate the bliss, 

And sweeten all the toils of human life : 

This be the female dignity, and praise. 

Ye swains now hasten to the hazel-bank; 
Where, down yon dale, the wildly-winding brook 
Falls hoarse from steep to steep. Inclose array, 611 
Fit for the thickets and the tangling shrub, 
Ye virgins come. For you their latest song 
The woodlands raise; the clustering nuts for you 



154 AUTUMN. 



Various Fruits. 



The lover finds amid the secret shade; 615 

And, where they burnish on the topmost bough, 

With active vigour crushes down the tree; 

Or shakes them ripe from the resigning husk, 

A glossy shower, and of an ardent brown, 

As are the ringlets of Melinda's hair: 620 

Melinda! form'd with every grace complete; 

Yet these neglecting, above beauty wise, 

And far transcending such a vulgar praise. 

Hence from the busy joy-resounding fields, 
In cheerful error, let us tread the maze 625 

Of Autumn, unconfin'd; and taste, reviv'd, 
The breath of orchard big with bending fruit. 
Obedient to the breeze and beating ray, 
From the deep-loaded bough a mellow shower 
Incessant melts away. The juicy pear 630 

Lies, in a soft profusion, scatter'd round. 
A various sweetness swells the gentle race; 
By l^ture's all-refining hand prepar'd; 
Of temper'd sun, and water, earth, and air, 
In ever-changing composition mixt. 635 

Such, falling frequent through the chiller night, 
The fragrant stores, the wide-projected heaps 
Of apples, which the lusty-handed year, 
Innumerous, o'er the blushing orchard shakes. 



AUTUMN. 155 



The Seat of Mr. Dodington described. 

..',. .. i. , i ... . — . ■ , ... — 

A various spirit, fresh, delicious, keen, 640 

Dwells in their gelid pores ! and, active, points 

The piercing cider for the thirsty tongue : 

Thy native theme, and boon inspirer too, 

Philips, Pomona's bard, the second thou 

Who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfetter'd verse, 645 

With British freedom sing the British song: 

How, from Silurian vats, high-sparkling wines 

Foam in transparent floods; some strong, to cheer 

The wintry revels of the labouring hind; 

And tasteful some, to cool the summer hours. 650 

In this glad season, while his sweetest beams 
The sun sheds equal o'er the meeken'd day; 
Oh lose me in the green delightful walks 
Of, Dodington, thy seat, serene, and plain; 
Where simple Nature reigns: and every view, 655 
Diffusive, spreads the pure Dorsetian downs, 
In boundless prospect: yonder shagg'd with wood, 
Here rich with harvest, and there white with flocks! 
Meantime the grandeur of thy lofty dome 
Far-splendid, seizes on the ravish'd eye. 660 

New beauties rise with each revolving day; 
New columns swell; and still the fresh Spring finds 
New plants to quicken, and new groves to green. 
Full of thy genius all! the Muses' seat: 



156 



AUTUMN. 



A Vineyard described. 



Where in the secret bower, and winding walk, 665 

For virtuous Young and thee they twine the bay. 

Here wandering oft, fir'd with the restless thirst 

Of thy applause, I solitary court 

Th' inspiring breeze: and meditate the book 

Of Nature ever open; aiming thence, 670 

Warm from the heart, to learn the moral song. 

Here, as I steal along the sunny wall, 

Where Autumn basks, with fruit empurpled deep, 

My pleasing theme continual prompts my thought: 

Presents the downy peach; the shining plum; 675 

The ruddy fragrant nectarine ; and dark, 

Beneath his ample leaf, the luscious fig. 

The vine too here her curling tendrils shoots; 

Hangs out her clusters, glowing to the south; 

And scarcely wishes for a warmer sky. 680 

Tcjrn we a moment Fancy's rapid flight 
To vigorous soils, and climes of fair extent; 
Where, by the potent sun elated high, 
The vineyard swells refulgent on the day; 
Spreads o'er the vale; or up the mountain climbs, 685 
Profuse ; and drinks amid the sunny rocks, 
From cliff to cliff increas'd, the heighten'd blaze. 
Low bend the weighty boughs. The clusters clear, 
Half through the foliage seen, or ardent flame, 



AUTUMN. 157 



Autumnal Fogs. 



Or shine transparent; while perfection breathes 690 

White o'er the turgent film the living dew. 

As thus they brighten with exalted juice, 

Touch'd into flavour by the mingling ray; 

The rural youth and virgins o'er the field, 

Each fond for each to cull th' autumnal prime, 695 

Exulting rove, and speak the vintage nigh. 

Then comes the crushing swain; the country floats, 

And foams unbounded with the mashy flood; 

That by degrees fermented, and refin'd, 

Round the rais'd nation pours the cup of joy: 700 

The claret smooth, red as the lip we press 

In sparkling fancy, while we drain the bowl; 

The mellow-tasted burgundy; and quick, 

As is the wit it gives, the gay champaign. 

Now, by the cool declining year condens'd, 705 
Descend the copious exhalations; check'd 
As up the middle sky unseen they stole; 
And roll the doubling fogs around the hill. 
No more the mountain, horrid, vast, sublime, 
Who pours a sweep of rivers from his sides, 710 

And high between contending kingdoms rears 
The rocky long division, fills the view 
With great variety; but in a night 
Of gathering vapour, from the baffled sense 



158 AUTUMN. 



Autumnal Rains. 



Sinks dark and dreary. Thence expanding far, 715 

The huge dusk, gradual, swallows up the plain: 

Vanish the woods; the dim-seen river seems 

Sullen, and slow, to roll the misty wave. 

E'en in the height of noon opprest, the sun 

Sheds weak, and blunt, his wide-refracted ray; 720 

Whence glaring oft, with many a broadened orb, 

He frights the nations. Indistinct on earth, 

Seen through the turbid air, beyond the life 

Objects appear; and, wilder'd, o'er the waste 

The shepherd stalks gigantic. Till at last 725 

Wreath'd dun around, in deeper circles still 

Successive closing, sits the general fog 

Unbounded o'er the world; and,- mingling thick, 

A formless grey confusion covers all. 

As when of old (so sung the Hebrew Bard) 730 

Light, uncollected, through the chaos urg'd 

Its infant way ; nor Order yet had drawn 

His lovely train from out the dubious gloom. 

These roving mists, that constant now begin 
To smoke along the hilly country, these, 735 

With weighty rains, and melted Alpine snows, 
The mountain-cisterns fill, those ample stores 
Of water, scoop'd among the hollow rocks; 
Whence gush the streams, the ceaseless fountains play, 



AUTUMN. 159 



Autumnal Rains. 



And their unfailing wealth the rivers draw. 740 

Some sages say, that where the numerous wave 

For ever lashes the resounding shore, 

DrilFd through the sandy stratum, every way, 

The waters with the sandy stratum rise; 

Amid whose angles infinitely strain'd, 745 

They joyful leave their jaggy salts behind, 

And clear and sweeten, as they soak along. 

Nor stops the restless fluid, mounting still, 

Though oft amidst th' irriguous vale it springs; 

But to the mountain courted by the sand, 750 

That leads it darkling on in faithful maze, 

Far from the parent-main, it boils again 

Fresh into day; and all the glittering hill 

Is bright with spouting rills. But hence this vain 

Amusive dream! why should the waters love 755 

To take so far a journey to the hills, 

When the sweet vallies offer to their toil 

Inviting quiet, and a nearer bed? 

Or if, by blind ambition led astray, 

They must aspire; why should they sudden stop 760 

Among the broken mountain's rushy dells, 

And, ere they gain its highest peak, desert 

Th' attractive sand that charm'd their course so long? 

Besides, the hard agglomerating salts, 



160 AUTUMN. 



The watery Deeps described. 



The spoil of ages, would impervious choke 765 

Their secret channels; or, by slow degrees, 

High as the hills protrude the swelling vales: 

Old Ocean too, suck'd through the porous globe, 

Had long ere now forsook his horrid bed, 

And brought Deucalion's watry times again. 770 

Say then, where lurk the vast eternal springs, 
That, like creating Nature, lie conceal'd 
From mortal eye, yet with their lavish stores 
Refresh the globe, and all its joyous tribes ? 
O, thou pervading Genius, given to Man, 775 

To trace the secrets of the dark abyss! 
O! lay the mountains bare; and wide display 
Their hidden structure to th' astonish'd view; 
Strip from the branching Alps their piny load; 
The huge incumbrance of horrific woods 780 

From Asian Taurus, from Imaus stretch'd 
Athwart the roving Tartar's sullen bounds; 
Give opening Hemus to my searching eye, 
And high Olympus pouring many a stream. 
O from the sounding summits of the north, 785 

The Dofrine Hills, through Scandinavia roll'd 
To farthest Lapland and the frozen main; 
From lofty Caucasus, far seen by those 
Who in the Caspian and black Euxine toil; 



AUTUMN. 161 



The watery Deeps described. 



From cold Riphean Rocks, which the wild Russ 790 
Believes the stony girdle of the world; 
And all the dreadful mountains, wrapt in storm, 
Whence wide Siberia draws her lonely floods; 

sweep th' eternal snows, hung o'er the deep, 
That ever works beneath his sounding base. 795 

Bid Atlas, propping heaven, as poets feign, 
His subterraneous wonders spread; unveil 
The miny caverns, blazing on the day, 
Of Abyssinia's cloud-compelling cliffs, 
And of the bending Mountains of the Moon! 800 
O'ertopping all these giant-sons of earth, 
Let the dire Andes, from the radiant Line 
Stretch'd to the stormy seas that thunder round 
The southern pole, their hideous deeps unfold. 

Amazing scene! Behold! the glooms disclose; 805 

1 see the rivers in their infant beds ! 

Deep, deep I hear them, labouring to get free! 

I see the leaning strata, artful rang'd; 

The gaping fissures to receive the rains, 

The melting snows, and ever-dripping fogs. 810 

Strow'd bibulous above I see the sands, 

The pebbly gravel next, the layers then 

Of mingled moulds, of more retentive earths, 

The gutter'd rocks, and mazy-running clefts; 

M 



162 AUTUMN. 



Emigration of Birds. 



That, while the stealing moisture they transmit, 815 

Retard its motion, and forbid its waste. 

Beneath th' incessant weeping of these drains, 

I see the rocky syphons stretch'd immense; 

The mighty reservoirs, of harden'd chalk, 

Or stiff compacted clay, capacious form'd. 820 

O'erflowing thence, the congregated stores, 

The crystal treasures of the liquid world, 

Through the stirr'd sands a bubbling passage burst, 

And welling out, around the middle steep, 

Or from the bottoms of the bosom'd hills, 825 

In pure effusion flow. United, thus, 

Th' exhaling sun, the vapour-burden'd air, 

The gelid mountains, that to rain condens'd 

These vapours in continual current draw, 

And send them, o'er the fair-divided earth, 830 

In bounteous rivers to the deep again; 

A social commerce hold, and firm support 

The full-adjusted harmony of things. 

When Autumn scatters his departing gleams, 
Warn'd of approaching Winter, gathered, play 835 
The swallow-people; and toss'd wide around, 
O'er the calm sky, in convolution swift, 
The feathered eddy floats: rejoicing once, 
Ere to their wintry slumbers they retire; 






AUTUMN. 163 



Emieration of Birds. 



In clusters clung, beneath the mouldering bank, 840 

And where, unpierc'd by frost, the cavern sweats. 

Or rather into warmer climes convey'd, 

With other kindred birds of season, there 

They twitter cheerful, till the vernal months 

Invite them welcome back: for, thronging, now 845 

Innumerous wings are in commotion all. 

Where the Rhine loses his majestic force 
In Belgian plains, won from the raging deep, 
By diligence amazing, and the strong 
Unconquerable hand of Liberty, 850 

The stork-assembly meets; for many a day, 
Consulting deep, and various, ere they take 
Their arduous voyage through the liquid sky. 
And now their route design'd, their leaders chose, 
Their tribes adjusted, clean'd their vigorous wings; 
And many a circle, many a short essay, 856 

Wheel'd round and round, in congregation full 
The figured flights ascend; and, riding high 
Th* aerial billows, mixes with the clouds. 

Or where the Northern ocean, in vast whirls, 860 
Boils round the naked melancholy isles 
Of farthest Thule, and th' Atlantic surge 
Pours in among the stormy Hebrides; 
Who can recount what transmigrations there 



164 AUTUMN. 



Caledonia described. 



Are annual made? what nations come and go? 865 
And how the living clouds on clouds arise? 
Infinite wings! till all the plume-dark air, 
And rude resounding shore, are one wild cry. 

Here the plain harmless native, his small flock, 
And herd diminutive of many hues, 870 

Tends on the little island's verdant swell, 
The shepherd's sea-girt reign; or, to the rocks 
Dire-clinging, gathers his ovarious food; 
Or sweeps the fishy shore; or treasures up 
The plumage, rising full, to form the bed 875 

Of luxury. And here a while the Muse, 
High-hovering o'er the broad cerulean scene, 
Sees Caledonia, in romantic view; 
Her airy mountains, from the waving main, 
Invested with a keen diffusive sky, 880 

Breathing the soul acute ; her forests huge, 
Incult, robust, and tall, by Nature's hand 
Planted of old; her azure lakes between, 
Pour'd out extensive, and of watery wealth 
Full; winding deep, and green, her fertile vales; 885 
With many a cool translucent brimming flood 
Wash'd lovely, from the Tweed (pure parent stream, 
Whose past'ral banks first heard my Doric reed, 
With, silvan Jed, thy tributary brook) 






AUTUMN. 165 



Caledonia described. 



To where the north-inflated tempest foams 890 

O'er Orca's or Betubium's highest peak: 

Nurse of a people, in misfortune's school 

Train'd up to hardy deeds; soon visited 

By Learning, when before the Gothic rage 

She took her western night. A manly race, 895 

Of unsubmitting spirit, wise and brave ; 

Who still thro' bleeding ages struggled hard, 

(As well unhappy Wallace can attest, 

Great patriot hero! ill-requited chief!) 

To hold a generous undiminish'd state; 900 

Too much in vain ! Hence of unequal bounds 

Impatient, and by tempting glory borne 

O'er every land; for every land their life 

Has flow'd profuse, their piercing genius plann'd, 

And swell'd the pomp of peace their faithful toil, -905 

As from their own clear north, in radiant streams, 

Bright over Europe bursts the Boreal Morn. 

Oh is there not some patriot, in whose power 
That best, that godlike Luxury is plac'd, 
Of blessing thousands, thousands yet unborn, 910 
Thro' late posterity? some, large of soul, 
To cheer dejected industry? to give 
A double harvest to the pining swain? 
And teach the lab'ring hand the sweets of toil? 



166 AUTUMN. 



Character of the Duke of Argyle. 



How, by the finest art, the native robe 915 

To weave; how, white as hyperborean snow, 

To form the lucid lawn; with vent'rous oar 

How to dash wide the billow; nor look on, 

Shamefully passive, while Batavian fleets 

Defraud us of the glittering finny swarms, 920 

That heave our friths, and crowd upon our shores? 

How all-enlivening trade to rouse, and wing 

The prosperous sail, from every growing port, 

Uninjur'd, round the sea-encircled globe; 

And thus, in soul united as in name, 925 

Bid Britain reign the mistress of the deep? 

Yes, there are such. And full on thee, Argyle, 
Her hope, her stay, her darling, and her boast, 
From her first patriots and her heroes sprung, 
Thy fond imploring Country turns her eye; 930 

In thee, with all a mother's triumph, sees 
Her every virtue, every grace combin'd; 
Her genius, wisdom, her engaging turn; 
Her pride of honour, and her courage try'd, 
Calm, and intrepid, in the very throat 935 

Of sulph'rous war, on Tenier's dreadful field. 
Nor less the palm of peace inwreaths thy brow: 
For, powerful as thy sword, from thy rich tongue 
Persuasion flows, and wins the high debate; 



AUTUMN. 167 



Woods in Autumn. 



AVhile mix'd in thee combine the charm of youth, 940 
The force of manhood, and the depth of age. 
Thee, Forbes, too, whom every worth attends, 
As truth sincere, as weeping friendship kind; 
Thee, truly generous, and in silence great, 
Thy country feels thro* her reviving arts, 945 

Plann'd by thy wisdom, by thy soul inform'd; 
And seldom has she known a friend like thee. 

But see the fading many-colour'd woods, 
Shade deepening over shade, the country round 
Imbrown; a crowded umbrage, dusk, and dun, 950 
Of every hue, from wan declining green 
To sooty dark. These now the lonesome Muse, 
Low-whispering, lead into their leaf-strown walks, 
And give the season in its latest view. 

Meantime, light-shadowing all, a sober calm 955 
Fleeces unbounded ether; whose least wave 
Stands tremulous, uncertain where to turn 
The gentle current: while illumin'd wide, 
The dewy-skirted clouds imbibe the sun, 
And thro' their lucid veil his softened force 960 

Shed o'er the peaceful world. Then is the time. 
For those whom wisdom and whom Nature charm, 
To steal themselves from the degenerate crowd, 
And soar above this little scene of things; 



168 AUTUMN. 



Winter Walks. 



To tread low-thoughted vice beneath their feet; 965 
To sooth the throbbing passions into peace; 
And woo lone Quiet in her silent walks. 

Thus solitary, and in pensive guise, 
Oft let me wander o'er the russet mead, 
And thro' the saddened grove, where scarce is heard 
One dying strain, to cheer the woodman's toil. 971 
Haply some widowed songster pours his plaint, 
Far, in faint warblings, thro' the tawny copse. 
While congregated thrushes, linnets, larks, 
And each wild throat, whose artless strains so late 975 
Swell'd all the music of the swarming shades, 
Robb'd of their tuneful souls, now shivering sit 
On the dead tree, a dull despondent flock; 
With not a brightness waving o'er their plumes, 
And nought save chattering discord in their note, 980 
O let not, aim'd from some inhuman eye, 
The gun, the music of the coming year 
Destroy; and harmless, unsuspecting harm, 
Lay the weak tribes, a miserable prey, 
In mingled murder, fluttering on the ground. 985 

The pale descending year, yet pleasing still, 
x\ gentler mood inspires; for now the, leaf 
Incessant rustles from the mournful grove; 
Oft startling such as, studious, walk below, 



AUTUMN. 169 



Melancholy. 



And slowly circles thro' the waving air. 990 

But should a quicker breeze amid the boughs 

Sob, o'er the sky the leafy deluge streams; 

Till choak'd and matted with the dreary shower, 

The forest-walks, at every rising gale, 

Roll wide the wither'd waste, and whistle bleak. 995 

Fled is the blasted verdure of the fields; 

And, shrunk into their beds, the flowery race 

Their sunny robes resign. Ev'n what remain'd 

Of stronger fruits, falls from the naked tree; 

And woods, fields, gardens, orchards, all around 1000 

The desolated prospect thrills the soul. 

He comes! he comes! in every breeze the Power 
Of Philosophic Melancholy comes! 
His near approach the sudden-starting tear, 
The glowing cheek, the mild dejected air, 1005 

The softened feature, and the beating heart, 
Pierc'd deep with many a virtuous pang, declare. 
O'er all the soul his sacred influence breathes! 
Inflames imagination; thro' the breast 
Infuses every tenderness; and far 1010 

Beyond dim earth exalts the swelling thought. 
Ten thousand thousand fleet ideas, such 
As never mingled with the vulgar dream, 
Crowd fast into the Mind's creative eye. 



170 AUTUMN. 



Melancholy. 



As fast the correspondent passions rise, 1015 

As varied, and as high: devotion rais'd 

To rapture, and divine astonishment; 

The love of Nature unconfin'd, and, chief, 

Of human race; the large ambitious wish, 

To make them blest; the sigh for suffering worth 1020 

Lost in obscurity; the noble scorn 

Of tyrant pride; the fearless great resolve; 

The wonder which the dying patriot draws, 

Inspiring glory thro' remotest time; 

Th' awakened throb for virtue, and for fame; 1025 

The sympathies of love, and friendship dear; 

With all the social Offspring of the heart. 

Oh bear me then to vast embowering shades, 
To twilight groves, and visionary vales; 
To weeping grottoes, and prophetic glooms; 1030 
Where angel-forms athwart the solemn dusk 
Tremendous sweep, or seem to sweep along; 
And voices more than human, thro' the void 
Deep-sounding, seize th' enthusiastic ear. 

Or is this gloom too much ? Then lead, ye powers, 
That o'er the garden and the rural seat 1036 

Preside, which shining thro' the cheerful land 
In countless numbers blest Britannia sees; 
O lead me to the wide-extended walks, 



AUTUMN. 171 



Stowe Gardens described. 



The fair majestic paradise of Stowe! 1040 

Not Persian Cyrus on Ionia's shore 

E'er saw such silvan scenes; such various art 

By genius fir'd, such ardent genius tam'd 

By cool judicious art; that, in the strife, 

All-beauteous Nature fears to be outdone. 1045 

And there, O Pitt! thy country's early boast, 

There let me sit beneath the shelter'd slopes, 

Or in that Temple where, in future times, 

Thou well shalt merit a distinguish'd name ; 

And, with thy converse blest, catch the last smiles 1050 

Of Autumn beaming o'er the yellow woods. 

While there with thee th' enchanted round I walk, 

The regulated wild; gay Fancy then 

Will tread in thought the groves of Attic Land ; 

Will from thy standard taste refine her own, 1055 

Correct her pencil to the purest truth 

Of Nature, or, the unimpassion'd shades 

Forsaking, raise it to the human mind. 

Or if hereafter she, with juster hand, 

Shall draw the tragic scene, instruct her thou, 1060 

To mark the varied movements of the heart, 

What every decent character requires, 

And every passion speaks: O thro' her strain 

Breathe thy pathetic eloquence! that moulds 



172 AUTUMN. 



Moon-Liorht. 



Th' attentive senate, charms, persuades, exalts; 1065 
Of honest zeal th' indignant lightning throws, 
And shakes corruption on her venal throne. 

While thus we talk, and thro' Elysian Vales 
Delighted rove, perhaps a sigh escapes: 
What pity, Cobham, thou thy verdant files 1070 

Of ordered trees should'st here inglorious range, 
Instead of squadrons flaming o'er the field, 
And long embattled hosts; when the proud foe, 
The faithless vain disturber of mankind, 
Insulting Gaul, has rous'd the world to war; 1075 
When keen, once more, within their bounds to press 
Those polish'd robbers, those ambitious slaves, 
The British Youth would hail thy wise command, 
Thy temper'd ardour and thy vet'ran skill. 

The western sun withdraws the shortened day; 
And humid evening, gliding o'er the sky, 1081 

In her chill progress, to the ground condens'd 
The vapours throws. Where creeping waters ooze, 
Where marshes stagnate, and where rivers wind, 
Cluster the rolling fogs, and swim along 1085 

The dusky-mantled lawn. Meanwhile the moon 
Full-orb'd, and breaking thro' the scatter'd clouds, 
Shows her broad visage in the crimson'd east; 
Turn'd to the sun direct, her spotted disk, 



AUTUMN. 173 



Northern Lights. 



Where mountains rise, umbrageous dales descend, 

And caverns deep, as optic tube descries, 1091 

A smaller earth, gives us his blaze again, 

Void of its flame, and sheds a softer day. 

Now thro' the passing cloud she seems to stoop, 

Now up the pure cerulean rides sublime. 1095 

Wide the pale deluge floats; and streaming mild 

O'er the sky'd mountain to the shadowy vale, 

While rocks and floods reflect the quivering gleam, 

The whole air whitens with a boundless tide 

Of silver radiance, trembling round the world. 1 100 

But when half-blotted from the sky her light, 
Fainting, permits the starry fires to burn 
With keener lustre thro' the depth of heaven; 
Or near extinct her deadened orb appears, 
And scarce appears, of sickly beamless white; 1105 
Oft in this season, silent from the north 
A blaze of meteors shoots: ensweeping first 
The lower skies, they all at once converge 
High to the crown of heaven, and all at once 
Relapsing quick, as quickly reascend, 1 1 io 

And mix, and thwart, extinguish, and renew, 
All ether coursing in a maze of light. 

From look to look, contagious thro' the crowd, 
The panic runs, and into wondrous shapes 



174 AUTUMN. 



Northern Lights. 



Th' appearance throws: armies in meet array, 1115 

Throng'd with aerial spears, and steeds of fire; 

Till the long lines of full-extended war 

In bleeding fight commixt, the sanguine flood 

Rolls a broad slaughter o'er the plains of heaven. 

As thus they scan the visionary scene, 1120 

On all sides swells the superstitious din, 

Incontinent; and busy frenzy talks 

Of blood and battle; cities overturn'd; 

And late at night in swallowing earthquake sunk, 

Or hideous wrapt in fierce ascending flame; 1125 

Of sallow famine, inundation, storm ; 

Of pestilence, and every great distress; 

Empires subvers'd, when ruling fate has struck 

Th' unalterable hour: ev'n Nature's self 

Is deem'd to totter on the brink of time. 1130 

Not so the Man of philosophic eye, 

And inspect sage; the waving brightness he 

Curious surveys, inquisitive to know 

The causes and materials, yet unfix'd, 

Of this appearance beautiful and new. 1135 

Now black, and deep, the night begins to fall, 
A shade immense! Sunk in the quenching gloom, 
Magnificent and vast, are heaven and earth. 
Order confounded lies; all beauty void; 



AUTUMN. 175 



A benighted Traveller. 



Distinction lost; and gay variety 1140 

One universal blot: such the fair power 

Of light, to kindle and create the whole. 

Drear is the state of the benighted wretch, 

Who then, bewilder'd, wanders thro' the dark, 

Full of pale fancies, and chimeras huge; 1145 

Nor visited by one directive ray, 

From cottage streaming, or from airy hall. 

Perhaps impatient as he stumbles on, 

Struck from the root of slimy rushes, blue, 

The wild-fire scatters round; or gathered trails 1 150 

A length of flame deceitful o'er the moss: 

Whither decoy'd by the fantastic blaze, 

Now lost and now renew'd, he sinks absorpt, 

Rider and horse, amid the miry gulph; 

While still, from day to day, his pining wife, 1155 

And plaintive children, his return await, 

In wild conjecture lost. At other times, 

Sent by the better Genius of the night, 

Innoxious, gleaming on the horse's mane, 

The meteor sits; and shows the narrow path, 1 160 

That winding leads thro* pits of death, or else 

Instructs him how to take the dangerous ford. 

The lengthened night elaps'd, the morning shines 
Serene, in all her dewy beauty bright; 



176 AUTUMN. 



Bees described, 



Unfolding fair the last autumnal day. 1165 

And now the mounting sun dispels the fog; 

The rigid hoar-frost melts before his beam; 

And hung on every spray, on every blade 

Of grass, the myriad dew-drops twinkle round. 

Ah see where robb'd, and murder'd, in that pit 1 170 
Lies the still heaving hive ! at evening snatch'd, 
Beneath the cloud of guilt-concealing night, 
And fix'd o'er sulphur: while, not dreaming ill, 
The happy people, in their waxen cells, 
Sat tending public cares, and planning schemes 1 175 
Of temperance, for Winter poor; rejoic'd 
To mark, full flowing round, their copious stores. 
Sudden the dark oppressive steam ascends; 
And, us'd to milder scents, the tender race, 
By thousands, tumble from their honeyed domes, 
Convolv'd, and agonizing in the dust. 1181 

And was it then for this you roam'd the Spring, 
Intent from flower to flower? for this you toil'd 
Ceaseless the burning Summer-heats away? 
For this in Autumn search'd the blooming waste, 1185 
Nor lost one sunny gleam, for this sad fate? 
O Man ! tyrannic lord ! how long, how long, 
Shall prostrate Nature groan beneath your rage, 
Awaiting renovation ? When oblig'd, 



AUTUMN. 177 



Bees described. 



Must you destroy? Of their ambrosial food 1190 

Can you not borrow; and, in just return, 

Afford them shelter from the wintry winds ? 

Or, as the sharp year pinches, with their own 

Again regale them on some smiling day? 

See where the stony bottom of their town 1195 

Looks desolate, and wild; with here and there 

A helpless number, who the ruin'd state 

Survive, lamenting weak, cast out to death. 

Thus a proud city, populous and rich, 

Full of the works of peace, and high in joy, 1200 

At theatre or feast, or sunk in sleep, 

(As late, Palermo, was thy fate) is seiz'd 

By some dread earthquake; and convulsive hurl'd 

Sheer from the black foundation, stench-involv'd, 

Into a gulph of blue sulphureous flame. 1205 

Hence every harsher sight! for now the day, 
O'er heaven and earth dirTus'd, grows warm, and high; 
Infinite splendour! wide investing all. 
How still the breeze ! save what the filmy thread 
Of dew evaporate brushes from the plain. 1210 

How clear the cloudless sky! how deeply ting'd 
With a peculiar blue ! the ethereal arch 
How swell'd immense ! amid whose azure thron'd 
The radiant sun how gay! how calm below 



178 AUTUMN. 



A Country Life described. 



The gilded earth! the harvest-treasures all 1215 

Now gather'd in, beyond the rage of storms, 

Sure to the swain ; the circling fence shut up ; 

And instant Winter's utmost rage defy'd. 

While, loose to festive joy, the country round 

Laughs with the loud sincerity of mirth, 1220 

Shook to the wind their cares. The toil-strung youth, 

By the quick sense of music taught alone, 

Leaps wildly graceful in the lively dance. 

Her every charm abroad, the village-toast, 

Young, buxom, warm, in native beauty rich, 1225 

Darts not-unmeaning looks ; and, where her eye 

Points an approving smile, with double force 

The cudgel rattles, and the wrestler twines. 

Age too shines out; and garrulous, recounts 

The feats of youth. Thus they rejoice; nor think 

That, with to-morrow's sun, their annual toil 1231 

Begins again the never-ceasing round. 

Oh knew he but his happiness, of Men 
The happiest he ! who far from public rage, 
Deep in the vale, with a choice Few retir'd, 1235 
Drinks the pure pleasures of the Rural Life. 
What tho* the dome be wanting, whose proud gate, 
Each morning, vomits out the sneaking crowd 
Of flatterers false, and in their turn abus'd ? 



AUTUMN. 179 



A Country Life described. 



Vile intercourse! What tho' the glittering robe, 1240 

Of every hue reflected light can give, 

Or floating loose, or stiff with mazy gold, 

The pride and gaze of fools! oppress him not? 

What though, from utmost land and sea purvey'd, 

For him each rarer tributary life 1245 

Bleeds not, and his insatiate table heaps 

With luxury, and death? What tho' his bowl 

Flames not with costly juice; nor sunk in beds, 

Oft of gay care, he tosses out the night, 

Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle state? 1250 

What tho' he knows not those fantastic joys, 

That still amuse the wanton, still deceive; 

A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain ; 

Their hollow moments undelighted all? 

Sure peace is his; a solid life, estrang'd 1255 

To disappointment, and fallacious hope : 

Rich in content, in Nature's bounty rich, 

In herbs and fruits; whatever greens the Spring, 

Whenheaven descends in showers; or bends the bough 

When Summer reddens, and when Autumn beams; 

Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies 1261 

Conceal'd, and fattens with the richest sap: 

These are not wanting; nor the milky drove, 

Luxuriant, spread o'er all the lowing vale ; 



180 AUTUMN. 



A Country Life described. 



Nor bleating mountains; nor the chide of streams, 

And hum of bees, inviting sleep sincere 1266 

Into the guiltless breast, beneath the shade, 

Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay; 

Nor aught besides of prospect, grove, or song, 

Dim grottoes, gleaming lakes, and fountain clear. 1270 

Here too dwells simple truth; plain innocence; 

Unsullied beauty; sound unbroken youth, 

Patient of labour, with a little pleas'd; 

Health ever blooming; unambitious toil; 

Calm contemplation, and poetic ease. 1275 

Let others brave the flood in quest of gain, 
And beat, for joyless months, the gloomy wave. 
Let such as deem it glory to destroy, 
Rush into blood, the sack of cities seek; 
Unpierc'd, exulting in the widow's wail, 1280 

The virgin's shriek, and infant's trembling cry. 
Let some, far distant from their native soil, 
Urg'd or by want or hardened avarice, 
Find other lands beneath another sun. 
Let this thro' cities work his eager way, 1285 

By legal outrage and establish'd guile, 
The social sense extinct; and that ferment 
Mad into tumult the seditious herd, 
Or melt them down to slavery. Let these 



AUTUMN. 181 



Pleasures of a Country Life. 



Insnare the wretched in the toils of law, 1290 

Fomenting discord, and perplexing right, 

An iron race ! and those of fairer front, 

But equal inhumanity, in courts, 

Delusive pomp, and dark cabals, delight; 

Wreathe the deep bow, diffuse the lying smile, 1295 

And tread the weary labyrinth of state. 

While he, from all the stormy passions free 

That restless Men involve, hears, and but hears, 

At distance safe, the human tempest roar, 

Wrapt close in conscious peace. The fall of kings, 

The rage of nations, and the crush of states, 1301 

Move not the Man, who, from the world escap'd, 

In still retreats, and flowery solitudes, 

To Nature's voice attends, from month to month, 

And day to day, thro' the revolving year; 1305 

Admiring, sees her in her every shape; 

Feels all her sweet emotions at his heart; 

Takes what she liberal gives, nor thinks of more. 

Fie, when young Spring protrudes the bursting germs, 

Marks the first bud, and sucks the healthful gale 1310 

Into his freshened soul; her genial hours 

Fie full enjoys; and not a beauty blows, 

And not an opening blossom breathes in vain. 

In Summer he, beneath the living shade, 



182 AUTUMN. 



Philosophic Life. 



Such as o'er frigid Tempe wont to wave, 1315 

Or Hemus cool, reads what the Muse, of these 
Perhaps, has in immortal numbers sung; 
Or what she dictates, writes : and, oft an eye 
Shot round, rejoices in the vigorous year. 

When Autumn's yellow lustre gilds the world, 1320 
And tempts the sickled swain into the field, 
Seiz'd by the general joy, his heart distends 
With gentle throws; and thro' the tepid gleams 
Deep musing, then he best exerts his song. 
Even Winter wild to him is full of bliss. 1325 

The mighty tempest, and the hoary waste, 
Abrupt, and deep, stretch'd o'er the buried earth, 
Awake to solemn thought. At night the skies, 
Disclos'd and kindled by refining frost, 
Pour every lustre on th' exalted eye. 1330 

A friend, a book, the stealing hours secure, 
And mark them down for wisdom. With swift wing, 
O'er land and sea imagination roams; 
Or truth, divinely breaking on' his mind, 
Elates his being, and unfolds his powers; 1335 

Or in his breast heroic virtue burns. 
The touch of kindred too and love he feels; 
The modest eye, whose beams on his alone 
Ecstatic shine; the little strong embrace 



AUTUMN. 183 



Philosophic Life. 



Of prattling children, twin'd around his neck, 1340 

And emulous to please him, calling forth 

The fond parental soul. Nor purpose gay, 

Amusement, dance, or song, he sternly scorns; 

For happiness and true philosophy 

Are of the social still, and smiling kind. 1345 

This is the life which those who fret in guilt, 

And guilty cities, never knew; the life, 

Led by primeval ages, uncorrupt, 

When angels dwelt, and God himself, with Man. 

Oh Nature! all-sufficient! overall! 1350 

Enrich me with the knowledge of thy works ! 
Snatch me to heaven; thy rolling wonders there, 
World beyond world, in infinite extent, 
Profusely scatter'd o'er the blue immense, 
Show me; their motions, periods, and their laws, 
Give me to scan; thro' the disclosing deep 1356 

Light my blind way: the mineral strata there ; 
Thrust, blooming, thence the vegetable world ; 
O'er that the rising system more complex, 
Of animals; and higher still, the mind, 1360 

The varied scene of quick-compounded thought, 
And where the mixing passions endless shift; 
These ever open to my ravish'd eye; 
A search, the flight of time can ne'er exhaust. 



184 AUTUMN. 



Philosophic Life. 



But if to that unequal; if the blood, 1365 

In sluggish streams about my heart, forbid 
That best ambition; under closing shades, 
Inglorjous, lay me by the lowly brook, 
And whisper to my dreams. From Thee begin, 
Dwell all on Thee, with Thee conclude my song; 
And let me never never stray from Thee. 1371 



WINTER 



THE ARGUMENT. 



The subject proposed. Address to the Earl of Wilmington. First approach 
of Winter. According to the natural course of the season, various storms 
described. Rain. Wind. Snow. The driving of the snows : a man 
perishing among them ; whence reflections on the wants and miseries of 
human life. The wolves descending from the Alps and Appenines. A 
winter evening described : as spent by philosophers ; by the country peo- 
ple ; in the city. Frost. A view of winter within the Polar Circle. A 
thaw. The whole concluding with moral reflections on a future state. 




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WINTE 



BOOK IF. 



General Features of Winter. 



oEE, Winter comes, to rule the varied year 

Sullen and sad, with all his rising train; 

Vapours, and Clouds, and Storms. Be these my theme; 

These ! that exalt the soul to solemn thought, 

And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms ! 5 

Congenial horrors, hail ! with frequent foot, 

PleasM have I, in my cheerful morn of life, 

When nurs'd by careless solitude I liv'd, 

And sung of Nature with unceasing joy, 

Pieas'd have I wander'd thro* your rough domain; 10 

Trod the pure virgin-snows, myself as pure; 

Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst; 

Or seen the deep fermenting tempest brew'd, 

In the grim evening sky. Thus pass'd the time, 



188 WINTER. 



Address to the Earl of Wilmington. 



Till thro* the lucid chambers of the south 15 

Look'd out the joyous Spring, looked out, and smil'd. 

To thee, the patron of her first essay, 
The Muse, O Wilmington! renews her song. 
Since has she rounded the revolving year; 
Skim'd the gay Spring; on eagle-pinions borne, 20 
Attempted thro* the Summer-blaze to rise ; 
Then swept o'er Autumn with the shadowy gale ; 
And now among the wintry clouds again, 
Roll'd in the doubling storm, she tries to soar; 
To swell her note with all the rushing winds; 25 

To suit her sounding cadence to the floods; 
As is her theme, her numbers wildly great: 
Thrice happy! could she fill thy judging ear 
With bold description, and with manly thought. 

Nor art thou skill'd in awful schemes alone, 30 
And how to make a mighty people thrive; 
But equal goodness, sound integrity, 
A firm unshaken uncorrupted soul 
Amid a sliding age, and burning strong, 
Not vainly blazing for thy country's weal, 35 

A steady spirit regularly free ; 
These, each exalting each, the statesman light 
Into the patriot; these, the public hope 
And eye to thee converting, bid the Muse 



WINTER. 189 



The Approach of Winter. — Its Effects on Man and Animals. 

Record what envy dares not flattery call. 40 

Now when the cheerless empire of the sky 
To Capricorn the Centaur Archer yields, 
And fierce Aquarius stains th' inverted year; 
Hung o'er the farthest verge of heaven, the sun 
Scarce spreads thro' ether the dejected day. 45 

Faint are his gleams, and ineffectual shoot 
His struggling rays, in horizontal lines, 
Thro* the thick air; as cloth'd in cloudy storm, 
Weak, wan, and broad, he skirts the southern sky; 
And, soon-descending, to the long dark night, 50 
Wide-shading all, the prostrate world resigns. 
Nor is the night unwish'd; while vital heat, 
Light, life, and joy, the dubious day forsake. 
Meantime, in sable cincture, shadows vast, 
Deep-ting'd and damp, and congregated clouds, 55 
And all the vapoury turbulence of heaven, 
Involve the face of things. Thus Winter falls, 
A heavy gloom oppressive o'er the world; 
Thro' Nature shedding influence malign, 
And rouses up the seeds of dark disease. 60 

The soul of Man dies in him, loathing life, 
And black with more than melancholy views. 
The cattle droop; and o'er the furrowed land 
Fresh from the plough, the dun discolour'd flocks, 



190 WINTER. 



The Effects of Winter on Man and Animals. 

Untended spreading, crop the wholesome root. 65 

Along the woods, along the moorish fens, 

Sighs the sad Genius of the coming storm; 

And up among the loose disjointed cliffs, 

And fractur'd mountains wild, the brawling brook 

And cave, presageful, send a hollow moan, 70 

Resounding long in listening Fancy's ear. 

Then comes the father of the tempest forth, 
Wrapt in black glooms. First joyless rains obscure, 
Drive thro' the mingling skies with vapour foul; 
Dash on the mountain's brow, and shake the woods, 
That grumbling wave below. The unsightly plain 76 
Lies a brown deluge; as the low-bent clouds 
Pour flood on flood, yet unexhausted still 
Combine, and deepening into night, shut up 
The day's fair face. The wanderers of heaven, SO 
Each to his home, retire ; save those that love 
To take their pastime in the troubled air; 
Or skimming flutter round the dimply pool. 
The cattle from the untasted fields return, 
And ask, with meaning lowe, their wonted stalls, 85 
Or ruminate in the contiguous shade. 
Thither the household feathery people crowd, 
The crested cock, with all his female train, 
Pensive, and dripping; while the cottage-hind 



WINTER. 191 



Winter Floods. 



Hangs o'er th' enlivening blaze, and taleful there 90 
Recounts his simple frolic: much he talks, 
And much he laughs; nor reeks the storm that blows 
Without, and rattles on his humble roof. 

Wide o'er the brim, with many a torrent swell'd, 
And the mix'd ruin of its banks o'erspread, 95 

At last the rous'd-up river pours along; 
Resistless, roaring, dreadful, down it comes, 
From the rude mountain, and the mossy wild, 
Tumbling thro* rocks abrupt, and sounding far; 
Then o'er the sanded valley floating spreads, 100 

Calm, sluggish, silent; till again, constrain'd 
Between two meeting hills, it bursts away, 
Where rocks and woods o'erhang the turbid stream; 
There gathering triple force, rapid, and deep, 104 
It boils, and wheels, and foams, and thunders through. 

Nature I great parent! whose unceasing hand 
Rolls round the Seasons of the changeful year, 
How mighty, how majestic, are thy works! 
With what a pleasing dread they swell the soul ! 
That sees astonish'd! and astonish'd sings! 110 

Ye too, ye winds! that now begin to blow, 
With boisterous sweep, I raise my voice to you. 
Where are your stores, ye powerful beings! say, 
Where your aerial magazines reserv'd, 



192 WINTER. 



Signs of a Tempest. 



To swell the brooding terrors of the storm? 115 

In what far distant region of the sky, 

Hush'd in deep silence, sleep ye when 't is calm? 

When from the pallid sky the sun descends, 
With many a spot, that o'er his glaring orb 
Uncertain wanders, stain'd; red fiery streaks 120 
Begin to flush around. The reeling clouds 
Stagger with dizzy poize, as doubting yet 
Which master to obey: while rising slow, 
Blank, in the leaden-colour'd east, the moon 
Wears a wan circle round her blunted horns. 125 
Seen thro' the turbid fluctuating air, 
The stars obtuse emit a shiver'd ray; 
Or frequent seem to shoot athwart the gloom, 
And long behind them trail the whitening blaze. 
Snatch'd in short eddies, plays the withered leaf; 130 
And on the flood the dancing feather floats. 
With broadened nostrils to the sky up-turn'd, 
The conscious heifer snuffs the stormy gale. 
Ev'n as the matron, at her nightly task, 
With pensive labour draws the flaxen thread, 135 
The wasted taper and the crackling flame 
Foretell the blast. But chief the plumy race, 
The tenants of the sky, its changes speak. 

Retiring from the downs, where all day long 



WINTER. 193 



A Tempest described. 



They pick'd their scanty fare, a blackening train 140 

Of clamorous rooks thick-urge their weary flight, 

And seek the closing shelter of the grove. 

Assiduous, in his bower, the wailing owl 

Plies his sad song. The cormorant on high 144 

Wheels from the deep, and screams along the land. 

Loud shrieks the soaring hern; and with wild wing 

The circling sea-fowl cleave the flaky clouds. 

Ocean, unequal press'd, with broken tide 

And blind commotion heaves; while from the shore, 

Eat into caverns by the restless wave, 1 50 

And forest-rustling mountains, comes a voice, 

That solemn sounding bids the world prepare. 

Then issues forth the storm with sudden burst, 

And hurls the whole precipitated air, 

Down, in a torrent. On the passive main 155 

Descends th' ethereal force, and with strong gust 

Turns from its bottom the discolour'd deep. 

Thro' the black night that sits immense around, 

Lash'd into foam, the fierce conflicting brine 

Seems o'er a thousand raging waves to burn: 160 

Meantime the mountain-billows, to the clouds 

In dreadful tumult swell'd, surge above surge, 

Burst into chaos with tremendous roar, 

And anchor'd navies from their stations drive, 



194 WINTER. 



A Tempest described. 



Wild as the winds across the howling waste 165 

Of mighty waters : now. th' inflated wave 

Straining they scale, and now impetuous shoot 

Into the secret chambers of the deep, 

The wintry Baltic thundering o'er their head. 

Emerging thence again, before the breath 170 

Of full-exerted heaven they wing their course, 

And dart on distant coasts; if some sharp rock, 

Or shoal insidious, break not their career, 

And in loose fragments fling them floating round. 

Nor less at land the loosened tempest reigns. 175 
The mountain thunders; and its sturdy sons 
Stoop to the bottom of the rocks they shade. 
Lone on the midnight steep, and all aghast, 
The dark way-faring stranger breathless toils, 
And, often falling, climbs against the blast. 180 

Low waves the rooted forest, vex'd, and sheds 
What of its tarnish *d honours yet remain; 
Dash'd down, and scatter'd, by the tearing wind's 
Assiduous fury, its gigantic limbs. 
Thus struggling thro* the dissipated grove, 1S5 

Xhe whirling tempest raves along the plain; 
And on the cottage thatch'd, or lordly roof, 
Keen-fastening, shakes them to the solid base. 
Sleep frighted flies; and round the rocking dome, 



WINTER. 195 



Contemplation on Night. 



For entrance eager, howls the savage blast. 190 

Then too, they say, thro* all the burden'd air, 
Long groans are heard, shrill sounds, and distant sighs, 
That, utter'd by the Demon of the night, 
Warn the devoted wretch of woe and death. 

Huge uproar lords it wide. The clouds commix'd 
With stars swift gliding sweep along the sky. 196 
All Nature reels. Till Nature's King, who oft 
Amid tempestuous darkness dwells alone, 
And on the wings of the careering wind 
Walks dreadfully serene, commands a calm; 200 

Then straight air, sea, and earth, are hush'd at once. 

As yet 't is midnight deep. The weary clouds, 
Slow-meeting, mingle into solid gloom. 
Now, while the drowsy world lies lost in sleep, 
Let me associate with the serious Night, 205 

And Contemplation her sedate compeer; 
Let me shake off th' intrusive cares of day, 
And lay the meddling senses all aside. 

Where now, ye lying vanities of life! 
Ye ever-tempting ever-cheating train! 210 

Where are you now? and what is your amount? 
Vexation, disappointment, and remorse. 
Sad, sickening thought! and yet deluded Man, 
A scene of crude disjointed visions past, 



196 WINTER. 



Snow described. 



And broken slumbers, rises still resolv'd, 215 

With new-flush'd hopes, to run the giddy round. 

Father of light and life, thou Good supreme! 
O teach me what is good! teach me Thyself! 
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, 
From every low pursuit; and feed my soul 220 

With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure; 
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss! 

The keener tempests rise: and fuming dun 
From all the livid east, or piercing north, 
Thick clouds ascend; in whose capacious womb 225 
A vapoury deluge lies, to snow congeal'd. 
Heavy they roll their fleecy world along; 
And the sky saddens with the gathered storm. 
Thro' the hush'd air the whitening shower descends, 
At first thin wavering; till at last the flakes 230 

Fall broad, and wide, and fast, dimming the day, 
With a continual flow. The cherish'd fields 
Put on their winter-robe of purest white. 

Tis brightness all; save where the new snow melts 
Along the mazy current. Low, the woods 235 

Bow their hoar head; and, ere the languid sun 
Faint from the west emits his evening ray, 
Earth's universal face, deep hid, and chill, 
Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide 



WINTER. 197 



Snow described. 



The works of Man. Drooping, the labourer-ox 240 
Stands cover'd o'er with snow, and then demands 
The fruit of all his toil. The fowls of heaven, 
Tam'd by the cruel season, crowd around 
The winnowing store, and claim the little boon 
Which Providence assigns them. One alone, 245 
The red-breast, sacred to the household gods, 
Wisely regardful of th' embroiling sky, 
In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves 
His shivering mates, and pays to trusted Man 
His annual visit. Half-afraid, he first 250 

Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights 
On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor, 
Eyes all the smiling family askance, 
And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is: 
Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs 255 

Attract his slender feet. The foodless wilds 
Pour forth their brown inhabitants. The hare, 
Tho' timorous of heart, and hard beset 
By death in various forms, dark snares, and dogs, 
And more unpitying Men, the garden seeks, 260 

Urg'd on by fearless want. The bleating kind 
Eye the bleak heaven, and next the glistening earth, 
With looks of dumb despair; then, sad dispers'd, 
Dig for the withered herb thro' heaps of snow. 



198 WINTER. 



Husbandman perishing in the Snow. 



Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind; 
Baffle the raging year, and fill their pens 266 

With food at will; lodge them below the storm, 
And watch them strict : for from the bellowing east, 
In this dire season, oft the whirlwind's wing 
Sweeps up the burden of the whole wintry plains 270 
At one wide waft; and o'er the hapless flocks, 
Hid in the hollow of two neighbouring hills, 
The billowy tempest whelms; till, upward urg'd, 
The valley to a shining mountain swells, 
Tipt with a wreath high-curling in the sky. 275 

As thus the snows arise ; and foul, and fierce, 
All Winter drives along the darkened air; 
In his own loose-revolving fields, the swain 
Disaster'd stands; sees other hills ascend, 
Of unknown joyless brow; and other scenes, . 280 
Of horrid prospect, shag the trackless plain: 
Nor finds the river, nor the forest, hid 
Beneath the formless wild ; but wanders on 
From hill to dale, still more and more astray; 
Impatient flouncing thro' the drifted heaps, 285 

Stung with the thoughts of home; the thoughts of home 
Rush on his nerves, and call their vigour forth 
In many a vain attempt. How sinks his soul! 
What black despair, what horror fills his heart! 



WINTER. 199 



Husbandman perishing in the Snow. 



When for the dusky spot, which fancy feign'd 290 

His tufted cottage rising thro' the snow, 

He meets the roughness of the middle waste, 

Far from the track, and blest abode of Man; 

While round him night resistless closes fast, 

And every tempest, howling o'er his head, 295 

Renders the savage wilderness more wild. 

Then throng the busy shapes into his mind, 

Of cover'd pits, unfathomably deep, 

A dire descent! beyond the power of frost; 

Of faithless bogs; of precipices huge, 300 

Smooth'd up with snow; and, what is land, unknown, 

What water, of the still unfrozen spring, 

In the loose marsh or solitary lake, 

Where the fresh fountain from the bottom boils. 

These check his fearful steps; and down he sinks 305 

Beneath the shelter of the shapeless drift, 

Thinking o'er all the bitterness of death; 

Mix'd with the tender anguish Nature shoots 

Thro' the wrung bosom of the dying Man, 

His wife, his children, and his friends unseen. 310 

In vain for him th' officious wife prepares 
The fire fair-blazing, and the vestment warm ; 
In vain his little children peeping out 
Into the mingling storm, demand their sire, 



200 WINTER. 



The various Ills of Life. 



With tears of artless innocence. Alas! 315 

Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold; 

Nor friends, nor sacred home. On every nerve 

The deadly winter seizes; shuts up sense; 

And, o'er his inmost vitals creeping cold, 

Lays him along the snows, a stiffened corse; 320 

Stretch'd out, and bleaching in the northern blast. 

Ah little think the gay licentious proud, 
Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround; 
They, who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth, 
And wanton, often cruel, riot waste; 325 

Ah little think they, while they dance along, 
How many feel, this very moment, death, 
And all the sad variety of pain. 
How many sink in the devouring flood, 
Or more devouring flame. How many bleed, 330 
By shameful variance betwixt Man and Man. 
How many pine in want, and dungeon glooms; 
Shut from the common air, and common use 
Of their own limbs. How many drink the cup 
Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread 335 

Of misery. Sore pierc'd by wintry winds, 
How many shrink into the sordid hut 
Of cheerless poverty. How many shake 
With all the fiercer tortures of the mind. 



WINTER. 201 



Miseries of a Prison. 



Unbounded passion, madness, guilt, remorse; 340 
Whence tumbled headlong from the height of life, 
They furnish matter for the tragic Muse. 
Ev'n in the vale where wisdom loves to dwell, 
With friendship, peace, and contemplation join'd, 
How many, rack'd with honest passions, droop 345 
In deep retir'd distress. How many stand 
Around the death-bed of their dearest friends, 
And point the parting anguish. Thought fond Man 
Of these, and all the thousand nameless ills, 
That one incessant struggle render life, 350 

One scene of toil, of suffering, and of fate; 
Vice in his high career would stand appalPd, 
And heedless rambling Impulse learn to think; 
The conscious heart of Charity would warm, 
And her wide wish Benevolence dilate; 355 

The social tear would rise, the social sigh ; 
And into clear perfection, gradual bliss, 
Refining still, the social passions work. 

And here can I forget the generous band, 
Who, touch'd with human woe, redressive search'd 
Into the horrors of the gloomy jail ? 361 

Unpitied, and unheard, where misery moans; 
Where sickness pines; where thirst and hunger burn, 
And poor misfortune feels the lash of vice. 



202 WINTER. 



Miseries of a Prison. 



While in the land of liberty, the land 365 

Whose every street and public meeting glow 

With open freedom, little tyrants rag'd; 

Snatch'd the lean morsel from the starving mouth; 

Tore from cold wintry limbs the tatter'd weed; 

Ev'n robb'd them of the last of comforts, sleep; 370 

The free-born Briton to the dungeon chain'd, 

Or, as the lust of cruelty prevailed, 

At pleasure mark'd him with inglorious stripes; 

And crush'd out lives, by secret barbarous ways, 

That for their country would have toil'd, or bled. 375 

O great design ! if executed well, 

With patient care, and wisdom-temper'd zeal. 

Ye sons of mercy! yet resume the search; 

Drag forth the legal monsters into light, 

Wrench from their hands oppression's iron rod, 380 

And bid the cruel feel the pains they give. 

Much still untouched remains; in this rank age, 
Much is the patriot's weeding hand requir'd. 
The toils of law, (what dark insidious Men 
Have cumbrous added to perplex the truth, 385 

And lengthen simple justice into trade) 
How glorious were the day ! that saw these broke, 
And every Man within the reach of right. 

By wintry famine rous'd; from all the tract 



WINTER. 203 



Appenine Mountains described. 



Of horrid mountains which the shining Alps, 390 
And wavy Appenine, and Pyrenees, 
Branch out stupendous into distant lands ; 
Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave ! 
Burning for blood ! bony, and gaunt, and grim ! 
Assembling wolves in raging troops descend; 395 
And, pouring o'er the country, bear along, 
Keen as the north-wind sweeps the glossy snow. 
All is their prize. They fasten on the steed, 
Press him to earth, and pierce his mighty heart. 
Nor can the bull his awful front defend, 400 

Or shake the murdering savages away. 
Rapacious, at the mother's throat they fly, 
And tear the screaming infant from her breast. 
The godlike face of Man avails him nought. 
Ev'n beauty, force divine ! at whose bright glance 405 
The generous lion stands in softened gaze, 
Here bleeds, a hapless undistinguish'd prey. 
But if, appriz'd of the severe attack, 
The country be shut up; lur'd by the scent, 
On church-yards drear (inhuman to relate!) 410 

The disappointed prowlers fall, and dig 
The shrouded body from the grave; o'er which, 
Mix'd with foul shades, and frighted ghosts, they howl. 
Among those hilly regions, where embrac'd 



204 WINTER, 



Converse with the Dead. 



In peaceful vales the happy Grisons dwell; 415 

Oft, rushing sudden from the loaded cliffs, 

Mountains of snow their gathering terrors roll. 

From steep to steep, loud-thundering down they come, 

A wintry waste in dire commotion all; 

And herds, and flocks, and travellers, and swains, 420 

And sometimes whole brigades of marching troops, 

Or hamlets sleeping in the dead of night, 

Are deep beneath the smothering ruin whelm'd. 

Now, all amid the rigours of the year, 
In the wild depth of Winter, while without 425 

The ceaseless winds blow ice, be my retreat, 
Between the groaning forest and the shore 
Beat by the boundless multitude of waves, 
A rural, shelter'd, solitary scene; 
Where ruddy fire and beaming tapers join 430 

To cheer the gloom. There studious let me sit, 
And hold high converse with the mighty dead; . 
Sages of ancient time, as gods rever'd; 
As gods beneficent, who blest mankind 
With arts, with arms, and humaniz'd a world. 435 
Rous'd at th' inspiring thought, I throw aside 
The long-liv'd volume; and, deep-musing, hai 
The sacred shades, that slowly-rising pass 
Before my wondering eyes. First Socrates, 



WINTER. 205 



Characters of Greece. 



Who, firmly good in a corrupted state, 440 

Against the rage of tyrants single stood, 

Invincible ! calm Reason's holy law, 

That Voice of God within th' attentive mind, 

Obeying, fearless, or in life, or death. 

Great moral teacher! wisest of Mankind! 445 

Solon the next; who built his common-weal 

On equity's wide base; by tender laws 

A lively people curbing, yet undamp'd 

Preserving still that quick peculiar fire, 

Whence in the laurel'd field of finer arts, 450 

And of bold freedom, they unequal'd shone; 

The pride of smiling Greece, and human-kind. 

Lycurgus then, who bow'd beneath the force 

Of strictest discipline, severely wise, 

All human passions. Following him, I see, 455 

As at Thermopylae he glorious fell, 

The firm devoted Chief, who prov'd by deeds 

The hardest lesson which the other taught. 

Then Aristides lifts his honest front; 

Spotless of heart, to whom th' unflattering voice 460 

Of freedom gave the noblest name of Just; 

In pure majestic poverty rever'd; 

Who, ev'n his glory to his country's weal 

Submitting, swell'd a haughty Rival's fame. 



206 WINTER. 



Characters of Greece. 



Rear'd by his care, of softer ray appears 465 

Cimon sweet-soul'd; whose genius, rising strong, 

Shook off the load of young debauch ; abroad 

The scourge of Persian pride, at home the friend 

Of every worth and every splendid art; 

Modest, and simple, in the pomp of wealth. 470 

Then the last worthies of declining Greece, 

Late caird to glory, in unequal times, 

Pensive, appear. The fair Corinthian boast, 

Timoleon, happy temper! mild, and firm, 

Who wept the Brother while the Tyrant bled. 475 

And, equal to the best, the Theban Pair, 

Whose virtues, in heroic concord join'd, 

Their country rais'd to freedom, empire, fame. 

He too, with whom Athenian honour sunk, 

And left a mass of sordid lees behind, 480 

Phocion the Good; in public life severe; 

To virtue still inexorably firm ; 

But when, beneath his low illustrious roof, 

Sweet peace and happy wisdom smooth'd his brow, 

Not friendship softer was, nor love more kind. 485 

And he, the last of old Lycurgus' sons, 

The generous victim to that vain attempt, 

To save a rotten State, Agis, who saw 

Ev'n Sparta's self to servile avarice sunk. 



WINTER. 207 



Roman Characters. 



The two Achaian heroes close the train: 490 

Aratus, who a while relum'd the soul 
Of fondly-lingering liberty in Greece: 
And he her darling as her latest hope, 
The gallant Philopoemen; who to arms 
Turn'd the luxurious pomp he could not cure; 495 
Or toiling in his farm, a simple swain; 
Or, bold and skilful, thundering in the field. 
Of rougher front, a mighty people come! 
A race of heroes! in those virtuous times 
Which knew no stain, save that with partial flame 500 
Their dearest country they too fondly lov'd : 
Her better founder first, the light of Rome, 
Numa, who soften'd her rapacious sons: 
Servius the King, who laid the solid base 
On which o'er earth the vast republic spread. 505 
Then the great consuls venerable rise. 
The Public Father who the Private quell'd, 
As on the dread tribunal sternly sad. 
He, whom his thankless country could not lose, 
Camillus, only vengeful to her foes. 510 

Fabricius, scorner of all-conquering gold; 
And Cincinnatus, awful from the plough. 
Thy willing Victim, Carthage, bursting loose 
From all that pleading Nature could oppose; 



208 WINTER. 



Roman Characters. 



F:;om a whole city's tears, by rigid faith 5 1 5 

Imperious call'd, and honour's dire command. 

Scipio, the gentle chief, humanely brave; 

Who soon the race of spotless glory ran, 

And, warm in youth, to the Poetic shade 

With Friendship and Philosophy retir'd. 520 

Tully, whose powerful eloquence a- while 

Restrain'd the rapid fate of rushing Rome. 

Unconquer'd Cato, virtuous in extreme. 

And thou, unhappy Brutus, kind of heart; 

Whose steady arm, by awful virtue urg'd, 525 

Lifted the Roman steel against thy Friend. 

Thousands besides, the tribute of a verse 

Demand; but who can count the stars of heaven? 

Who sing their influence on this lower world? 

Behold, who yonder comes! in sober state, 530 
Fair, mild, and strong, as is a vernal sun: 
'T is Phoebus' self, or else the Mantuan Swain! 
Great Homer too appears, of daring wing, 
Parent of song! and equal by his side, 
The British Muse: join'd hand in hand they walk, 
Darkling, full up the middle steep to fame. 536 

Nor absent are those shades, whose skilful touch 
Pathetic drew th' impassion'd heart, and charm'd 
Transported Athens with the moral scene: 






WINTER. 209 



Address to Mr. Hammond. 



Nor those who, tuneful, wak'd th' enchanting lyre. 

First of your kind! society divine! 541 

Still visit thus my nights, for you reserv'd, 
And mount my soaring soul to thoughts like yours. 
Silence, thou lonely power! the door be thine; 
See on the hallowed hour that none intrude, 545 

Save a few chosen friends, who sometimes deign 
To bless my humble roof, with sense refiri'd, 
Learning digested well, exalted faith, 
Unstudy'd wit, and humour ever gay. 
Or from the Muses' hill will Pope descend, 550 

To raise the sacred hour, to bid it smile, 
And with the social spirit warm the heart: 
For tho' not sweeter his own Homer sings, 
Yet is his life the more endearing song. 

Where art thou, Hammond? thou the darling,fride, 
The friend and lover of the tuneful throng! 556 

Ah why, dear youth, in all the blooming prime 
Of vernal genius, where disclosing fast 
Each active worth, each manly virtue lay, 
Why wert thou ravish'd from our hope so soon ? 560 
What now avails that noble thirst of fame, 
Which stung thy fervent breast? that treasur'd store 
Of knowledge, early gain'd? that eager zeal 
To serve thy country, glowing in the band 

p 



210 WINTER. 



Society in Winter. 



Of youthful Patriots, who sustain her name? 
What now, alas ! that life-diffusing charm 566 

Of sprightly wit? that rapture for the Muse, 
That heart of friendship, and that soul of joy, 
Which bade with softest light thy virtues smile? 
Ah ! only show'd, to check our fond pursuits, 570 
And teach our humbled hopes that life is vain ! 
Thus in some deep retirement would I pass 
The winter-glooms, with friends of pliant soul, 
Or blithe, or solemn, as the theme inspir'd: 
With them would search, if Nature's boundless frame 
Was caird, late-rising from the void of night, 576 
Or sprung eternal from th' eternal Mind; 
Its life, its laws, its progress, and its end. 
Hence larger prospects of the beauteous whole 
Would, gradual, open on our opening minds; 580 
And each diffusive harmony unite 
In full perfection, to th* astonish'd eye. 
Then would we try to scan the moral World, 
Which, tho' to us it seems embroil'd, moves on 
In higher order; fitted, and impell'd, 585 

By Wisdom's finest hand, and issuing all 
In general Good. The sage historic Muse 
Should next conduct us thro* the deeps of time : 
Show us how empire grew, declin'd, and fell, 



WINTER. 211 



Society in Winter. 



In scatter'd states; what makes the nations smile; 590 

Improves their soil, and gives them double suns; 

And why they pine beneath the brightest skies, 

In Nature's richest lap. As thus we talk'd, 

Our hearts would burn within us, would inhale 

That portion of divinity, that ray 595 

Of purest heaven, which lights the public soul 

Of patriots, and of heroes. But if doom'd, 

In powerless humble fortune, to repress 

These ardent risings of the kindling soul; 

Then, ev'n superior to ambition, we 600 

Would learn the private virtues; how to glide 

Thro* shades and plains, along the smoothest stream 

Of rural life : or snatch'd away by hope, 

Thro* the dim spaces of futurity, 

With earnest eye anticipate those scenes 605 

Of happiness, and wonder; where the mind, 

In endless growth and infinite ascent, 

Rises from state to state, and world to world. 

But when with these the serious thought is foil'd, 

We, shifting for relief, would play the shapes 610 

Of frolic fancy; and incessant form 

Those rapid pictures, that assembled train 

Of fleet ideas, never join'd before; 

Whence lively Wit excites to gay surprise; 



212 WINTER. 



Winter Amusements. 



Or folly-painting Humour, grave himself, 615 

Calls Laughter forth, deep-shaking every nerve. 

Meantime the village rouses up the fire; 
While well attested, and as well believ'd, 
Heard solemn, goes the goblin-story round; 
Till superstitious horror creeps o'er all. 620 

Or, frequent in the sounding hall, they wake 
The rural gambol. Rustic mirth goes round; 
The simple joke that takes the shepherd's heart, 
Easily pleas'd; the long loud laugh, sincere; 
The kiss, snatch'd hasty from the side-long maid, 625 
On purpose guardless, or pretending sleep: 
The leap, the slap, the haul; and, shook to notes 
Of native music, the respondent dance. 
Thus jocund fleets with them the winter-night. 

The city swarms intense. The public haunt, 630 
Full of each theme, and warm with mix'd discourse, 
Hums indistinct. The sons of riot flow 
Down the loose stream of false inchanted joy, 
To swift destruction. On the rankled soul 
The gaming fury falls; and in one gulph 635 

Of total ruin, honour, virtue, peace, 
Friends, families, and fortune, headlong sink. 
Up-springs the dance along the lighted dome, 
Mix'd, and evolv'd, a thousand sprightly ways. 



WINTER. 213 



Dramatic Amusements. — Character of Lord Chesterfield. 

The glittering court effuses every pomp; 640 

The circle deepens: beam'd from gaudy robes, 

Tapers, and sparkling gems, and radiant eyes, 

A soft effulgence o'er the palace waves: 

While, a gay insect in his summer-shine, 

The fop, light-fluttering, spreads his mealy wings. 645 

Dread o'er the scene, the ghost of Hamlet stalks; 
Othello rages; poor Monimia mourns; 
And Belvidera pours her soul in love. 
Terror alarms the breast; the comely tear 
Steals o'er the cheek: or else the Comic Muse 650 
Holds to the world a picture of itself, 
And raises sly the fair impartial laugh. 
Sometimes she lifts her strain, and paints the scenes 
Of beauteous life; whate'er can deck mankind, 
Or charm the heart, in generous Bevil show'd. 655 

O Thot, whose wisdom, solid yet refin'd, 
Whose patriot virtues, and consummate skill 
To touch the finer springs that move the world, 
Join'd to whate'er the Graces can bestow, 
And all Apollo's animating fire, 660 

Give thee, with pleasing dignity, to shine 
At once the guardian, ornament, and joy, 
Of polish'd life; permit the Rural Muse, 
O Chesterfield! to grace with thee her song. 



214 WINTER. 



Character of Lord Chesterfield. 



Ere to the shades again she humbly flies, 665 

Indulge her fond ambition, in thy train, 
(For every Muse has in thy train a place) 
To mark thy various full-accomplish^ mind: 
To mark that spirit, which, with British scorn, 
Rejects th' allurements of corrupted power; 670 

That elegant politeness, which excels, 
Ev'n in the judgment of presumptuous France, 
The boasted manners of her shining court; 
That wit, the vivid energy of sense, 
The truth of Nature, which with Attic point, 675 
And kind well-tempered satire, smoothly keen, 
Steals thro' the soul, and without pain corrects. 
Or, rising thence with yet a brighter flame, 
O let me hail thee on some glorious day, 
When to the listening senate, ardent, crowd 680 

Britannia's sons to hear her pleaded cause. 
Then drest by thee, more amiably fair, 
Truth the soft robe of mild persuasion wears: 
Thou to assenting reason giv'st again 
Her own enlightened thoughts; call'd from the heart, 
Th' obedient passions on thy voice attend; 686 

And ev'n reluctant party feels awhile 
Thy gracious power: as thro' the varied maze 
Of eloquence, now smooth, now quick, now strong, 



WINTER. 215 



Frost beneficial. 



Profound and clear, you roll the copious flood. 690 

To thy lov'd haunt return, my happy Muse: 
For now, behold, the joyous winter-days, 
Frosty, succeed ; and thro' the blue serene, 
For sight too fine, th' ethereal nitre flies, 
Killing infectious damps, and the spent air 695 

Storing afresh with elemental life. 
Close crowds the shining atmosphere; and binds 
Our strengthened bodies in its cold embrace, 
Constringent; feeds, and animates our blood; 
Refines our spirits, through the new-strung nerves, 700 
In swifter sallies darting to the brain; 
Where sits the soul, intense, collected, cool, 
Bright as the skies, and as the season keen. 

All Nature feels the renovating force 
Of Winter, only to the thoughtless eye 705 

In ruin seen. The frost-concocted glebe 
Draws in abundant vegetable soul, 
And gathers vigour for the coming year. 
A stronger glow sits on the lively cheek 
Of ruddy fire: and luculent along 710 

The purer rivers flow; their sullen deeps, 
Transparent, open to the shepherd's gaze, 
And murmur hoarser at the fixing frost. 

What art thou, frost? and whence are thy keen stores 



216 WINTER. 



Description of Frost. 



Deriv'd, thou secret all-invading power! 715 

Whom ev'n th' illusive fluid cannot fly? 

Is not thy potent energy, unseen, 

Myriads of little salts, or hooked, or shap'd 

Like double wedges, and dirTus'd immense 

Thro' water, earth, and ether? Hence at eve, 720 

Steam'd eager from the red horizon round, 

With the fierce rage of Winter deep suffus'd, 

An icy gale, oft shifting, o'er the pool 

Breathes a blue film, and in its mid career 

Arrests the bickering stream. The loosened ice, 725 

Let down the flood, and half dissolv'd by day, 

Rustles no more; but to the sedgy bank 

Fast grows; or gathers round the pointed stone, 

A crystal pavement, by the breath of heaven 

Cemented firm; till, seiz'd from shore to shore, 730 

The whole imprisoned river growls below. 

Loud rings the frozen earth, and hard reflects 

A double noise; while, at his evening watch, 

The village dog deters the nightly thief; 

The heifer lows; the distant water-fall 735 

Swells in the breeze ; and, with the hasty tread 

Of traveller, the hollow-sounding plain 

Shakes from afar. The full ethereal round, 

Infinite worlds disclosing to the view, 



WINTER. 217 



Winter Amusements. 



Shines out intensely keen; and, all one cope 740 

Of starry glitter, glows from pole to pole. 

From pole to pole the rigid influence falls, 
Thro' the still night, incessant, heavy, strong, 
And seizes Nature fast. It freezes on; 
Till morn, late rising o'er the drooping world, 745 
Lifts her pale eye unjoyous. Then appears 
The various labour of the silent night: 
Prone from the dripping eave, and dumb cascade, 
Whose idle torrents only seem to roar, 
The pendant icicle; the frost-work fair, 750 

Where transient hues, and fancy'd figures rise; 
Wide-spouted o'er the hill, the frozen brook, 
A livid track, cold-gleaming on the morn; 
The forest bent beneath the plumy wave; 
And by the frost refin'd the whiter snow, 755 

Incrusted hard, and sounding to the tread 
Of early shepherd, as he pensive seeks 
His pining flock; or from the mountain top, 
Pleas'd with the slippery surface, swift descends. 

On blithsome frolics bent, the youthful swains, 760 
While every work of Man is laid at rest, 
Fond o'er the river crowd, in various sport 
And revelry dissolv'd ; where mixing glad, 
Happiest of all the train ! the raptur'd boy 



218 WINTER. 



Winter Amusements. 



Lashes the whirling top. Or, where the Rhine 765 

Branch'd out in many a long canal extends, 

From every province swarming, void of care, 

Batavia rushes forth ; and as they sweep, 

On sounding skates, a thousand different ways, 

In circling poise, swift as the winds, along, 770 

The then gay land is maddened all to joy. 

Nor less the northern courts, wide o'er the snow, 

Pour a new pomp. Eager, on rapid sleds, 

Their vigorous youth in bold contention wheel 

The long-resounding course. Meantime, to raise 775 

The manly strife, with highly-blooming charms, 

Flush'd by the season, Scandinavia's dames, 

Or Russia's buxom daughters, glow around. 

Pure, quick, and sportful, is the wholesome day; 
But soon elaps'd. The horizontal sun, 780 

Broad o'er the south, hangs at his utmost noon; 
And, ineffectual, strikes the gelid cliff: 
PL's azure gloss the mountain still maintains, 
Nor feels the feeble touch. Perhaps the vale 
Relents awhile to the reflected ray; 785 

Or from the forest falls the cluster'd snow, 
Myriads of gems, that in the waving gleam 
Gay-twinkle as they scatter. Thick around 
Thunders the sport of those, who with the gun, 



WINTER. 219 



Winter in the Frigid Zone. 



And dog impatient bounding at the shot, 790 

Worse than the season, desolate the fields; 
And, adding to the ruins of the year, 
Distress the footed or the feathered game. 

But what is this? Our infant Winter sinks, 
Divested of his grandeur, should our eye 795 

Astonish'd shoot into the Frigid Zone ; 
Where, for relentless months, continual Night 
Holds o'er the glittering waste her starry reign. 

There, thro' the prison of unbounded wilds, 
Barr'd by the hand of Nature from escape, 800 

Wide-roams the Russian exile. Nought around 
Strikes his sad eye, but deserts lost in snow; 
And heavy-loaded groves; and solid floods, 
That stretch, athwart the solitary waste, 
Their icy horrors to the frozen main; 805 

And cheerless towns far-distant, never bless'd, 
Save when its annual course the caravan 
Bends to the golden coast of rich Cathay, 
With news of human-kind. Yet there life glows; 
Yet cherish'd there, beneath the shining waste, 810 
The furry nations harbour: tipt with jet, 
Fair ermines, spotless as the snows they press; 
Sables, of glossy black; and dark embrown'd, 
Or beauteous freakt with many a mingled hue, 



220 WINTER. 



Winter in the Frigid Zone. 



Thousands besides, the costly pride of courts. 815 
There, warm together press'd, the trooping deer 
Sleep on the new-falPn snows; and, scarce his head 
Rais'd o'er the heapy wreath, the branching elk 
Lies slumbering sullen in the white abyss. 
The ruthless hunter wants nor dogs nor toils; 820 
Nor with the dread of sounding bows he drives 
The fearful flying race; with ponderous clubs, 
As weak against the mountain-heaps they push 
Their beating breast in vain, and piteous bray, 
He lays them quivering on th' ensanguin'd snows; 825 
And with loud shouts rejoicing bears them home. 
There thro* the piny forest half-absorpt, 
Rough tenant of these shades, the shapeless bear, 
With dangling ice all horrid, stalks forlorn; 
Slow-pac'd, and sourer as the storms increase, 830 
He makes his bed beneath th' inclement drift, 
And, with stern patience, scorning weak complaint, 
Hardens his heart against assailing want. 

Wide o'er the spacious regions of the north, 
That see Bootes urge his tardy wain, 835 

A boisterous race, by frosty Caurus pierc'd, 
Who little pleasure know and fear no pain, 
Prolific swarm. They once relum'd the flame 
Of lost mankind in polish'd slavery sunk; 



WINTER. 221 



Laplanders, and the Northern Regions described. 

Drove martial horde on horde, with dreadful sweep 
Resistless rushing o'er the enfeebled south, 841 

And gave the vanquish'd world another form. 
Not such the sons of Lapland: wisely they 
Despise th' insensate barbarous trade of war; 
They ask no more than simple Nature gives, 845 

They love their mountains and enjoy their storms. 
No false desires, no pride-created wants, 
Disturb the peaceful current of their time; 
And thro* the restless ever-tortur'd maze 
Of pleasure, or ambition, bid it rage. 850 

Their rein-deer form their riches. These, their tents, 
Their robes, their beds, and all their homely wealth 
Supply, their wholesome fare, and cheerful cups. 
Obsequious at their call, the docile tribe 
Yield to the sled their necks, and whirl them swift 855 
O'er hill and dale, heap'd into one expanse 
Of marbled snow, as far as eye can sweep 
With a blue crust of ice unbounded glaz'd. 
By dancing meteors then, that ceaseless shake 
A waving blaze refracted o'er the heavens, 860 

And vivid moons, and stars that keener play 
With doubled lustre from the glossy waste ; 
Ev'n in the depth of Polar Night, they find 
A wond'rous day: enough to light the chase, 



222 WINTER. 



Northern Regions. 



Or guide their daring steps to Finland-fairs. 865 

Wish'd Spring returns; and from the hazy south, 
While dim Aurora slowly moves before, 
The welcome sun, just verging up at first, 
By small degrees extends the swelling curve; 
Till seen at last for gay rejoicing months, 870 

Still round and round, his spiral course he winds; 
And as he nearly dips his flaming orb, 
Wheels up again, and reascends the sky. 
In that glad season, from the lakes and floods, 
Where pure Niemi's fairy mountains rise, 875 

And fring'd with roses Tenglio rolls his stream, 
They draw the copious fry. With these, at eve, 
They cheerful-loaded to their tents repair; 
Where, all day long in useful cares employ'd, 
Their kind unblemish'd wives the fire, prepare. 880 
Thrice happy race ! by poverty secur'd 
From legal plunder and rapacious power: 
In whom fell interest never yet has sown 
The seeds of vice : whose spotless swains ne'er knew 
Injurious deed; nor, blasted by the breath 885 

Of faithless love, their blooming daughters woe. 

Still pressing on, beyond Tornea's lake, 
And Hecla flaming thro' a waste of snow, 
And farthest Greenland, to the pole itself, 



WINTER. 223 



Mountains of Ice. 



Where, failing gradual, life at length goes out, 890 

The Muse expands her solitary flight; 

And, hovering o'er the wild stupendous scene, 

Beholds new seas beneath another sky. 

Thron'd in his palace of cerulean ice, 

Here Winter holds his unrejoicing court; 895 

And thro' his airy hall the loud misrule 

Of driving tempest is for ever heard: 

Here the grim tyrant meditates his wrath ; 

Here arms his winds with all-subduing frost; 

Moulds his fierce hail, and treasures up his snows, 900 

With which he now oppresses half the globe. 

Thence winding eastward to the Tartar's coast, 
She sweeps the howling margin of the main; 
Where undissolving, from the first of time, 
Snows swell on snows amazing to the sky; 905 

And icy mountains high on mountains pil'd, 
Seem to the shivering sailor from afar, 
Shapeless and white, an atmosphere of clouds. 
Projected huge, and horrid, o'er the surge, 
Alps frown on Alps; or rushing hideous down, 910 
As if old Chaos was again return'd, 
Wide-rend the deep, and shake the solid pole. 
Ocean itself no longer can resist 
The binding fury; but, in all its rage 



224 WINTER. 



The lowest Race of Man. 



Of tempest taken by the boundless frost, 915 

Is many a fathom to the bottom chain'd, 
And bid to roar no more : a bleak expanse, 
Shagg'd o'er with wavy rocks, cheerless, and void 
Of every life, that from the dreary months 
Flies conscious southward. Miserable they! 920 
Who, here entangled in the gathering ice, 
Take their last look of the descending sun; 
While, full of death, and fierce with tenfold frost, 
The long long night, incumbent o'er their heads, 
Falls horrible. Such was the Briton's fate, 925 
As with first prow, (what have not Britons dar'd!) 
He for the passage sought, attempted since 
So much in vain, and seeming to be shut 
By jealous Nature with eternal bars. 
In these fell regions, in Arzina caught, 930 

And to the stony deep his idle ship 
Immediate seal'd, he with his hapless crew, 
Each full exerted at his several task, 
Froze into statues; to the cordage glu'd 
The sailor, and the pilot to the helm. 935 

Hard by these shores, where scarce his freezing stream 
Rolls the wild Oby, live the last of Men; 
And half enlivened by the distant sun, 
That rears and ripens Man, as well as plants, 






WINTER. 225 



Peter the Great of Russia. 



Here human Nature wears its rudest form. 940 

Deep from the piercing season sunk in caves, 
Here by dull fires, and with unjoyous cheer, 
They waste the tedious gloom. Immers'd in furs, 
Doze the gross race. Nor sprightly jest, nor song, 
Nor tenderness they know; nor aught of life, 945 
Beyond the kindred bears that stalk without, 
Till morn at length, her roses drooping all, 
Sheds a long twilight brightening o'er their fields, 
And calls the quiver'd savage to the chase. 

What cannot active government perform, 950 
NewmouldingMan? Wide-stretching from these shores, 
A people savage from remotest time, 
A huge neglected empire, one vast Mind, 
By Heaven inspir'd, from Gothic darkness call'd. 
Immortal Peter! first of monarchs ! He 955 

His stubborn country tam'd, her rocks, her fens, 
Her floods, her seas, her ill-submitting sons; 
And while the fierce Barbarian he subdu'd, 
To more exalted soul he rais'd the Man. 

Ye shades of ancient heroes! ye who toil'd 960 
Thro' long successive ages to build up 
A labouring plan of state, behold at once 
The wonder done ! behold the matchless prince ! 
Who left his native throne, where reign'd till then 

Q 



226 WINTER. 



Peter the Great of Russia- 



A mighty shadow of unreal power; 965 

Who greatly spurred the slothful pomp of courts; 

And roaming every land, in every port 

His sceptre laid aside, with glorious hand 

Unwearied plying the mechanic tool, 

Gather'd the seeds of trade, of useful arts, 970 

Of civil wisdom, and of martial skill. 

Charg'd with the stores of Europe home he goes ! 

Then cities rise amid th' illumin'd waste; 

O'er joyless deserts smiles the rural reign; 

Far-distant flood to flood is social join'd; 975 

Th' astonished Euxine hears the Baltic roar; 

Proud navies ride on seas that never foam'd 

With daring keel before; and armies stretch 

Each way their dazzling files, repressing here 

The frantic Alexander of the north, 980 

And awing there stern Othman's shrinking sons. 

Sloth flies the land, and Ignorance, and Vice, 

Of old dishonour proud: it glows around, 

Taught by the Royal Hand that rous'd the whole, 

One scene of arts, of arms, of rising trade: 985 

For what his wisdom plann'd, and power enforc'd, 

More potent still, his great example show'd. 

Muttering, the winds at eve, with blunted point, 
Blow hollow-blustering from the south. Subdu'd, 



WINTER. 227 



Description of Thaw. 



The frost resolves into a trickling thaw. 990 

Spotted the mountains shine; loose sleet descends, 

And floods the country round. The rivers swell, 

Of bonds impatient. Sudden from the hills, 

O'er rocks and woods, in broad brown cataracts, 

A thousand snow-fed torrents shoot at once; 995 

And, where they rush, the wide-resounding plain 

Is left one slimy waste. Those sullen seas, 

That wash'd th* ungenial pole, will rest no more 

Beneath the shackles of the mighty north; 

But, rousing all their waves, resistless heave. 1000 

And hark! the lengthening roar continuous runs 

Athwart the rifted deep: at once it bursts, 

And piles a thousand mountains to the clouds. 

Ill fares the bark with trembling wretches charg'd, 
That, tost amid the floating fragments, moors 1005 
Beneath the shelter of an icy isle, 
While night o'erwhelms the sea, and horror looks 
More horrible. Can human force endure 
Th' assembled mischiefs that besiege them round? 
Heart-gnawing hunger, fainting weariness, 1010 

The roar of winds and waves, the crush of ice, 
Now ceasing, now renew'd with louder rage, 
And in dire echoes bellowing round the main. 
More to embroil the deep, Leviathan 



228 WINTER. 



Life compared to the Seasons. 



And his unwieldy train, in dreadful sport, 1015 

Tempest the loosened brine ; while thro* the gloom, 

Far, from the bleak inhospitable shore, 

Loading the winds, is heard the hungry howl 

Of famish'd monsters, there awaiting wrecks. 

Yet Providence, that ever-waking eye ! 1020 

Looks down with pity on the feeble toil 

Of mortals lost to hope ; and lights them safe, 

Thro' all this dreary labyrinth of fate. 

'Tis done ! dread Winter spreads his latest glooms, 
And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year. 1025 
How dead the vegetable kingdom lies! 
How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends. 
His desolate domain. Behold, fond Man! 
See here thy pictur'd life ; pass some few years, 
Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength, 
Thy sober Autumn fading into age, 1031 

And pale concluding Winter comes at last, 
And shuts the scene. Ah! whither now are fled 
Those dreams of greatness? those unsolid hopes 
Of happiness? those longings after fame ? 1035 

Those restless cares? those busy bustling days? 
Those gay-spent, festive nights? those veering thoughts 
Lost between good and ill, that shar'd thy life ? 
All now are vanish'd; Virtue sole-survives, 




WINTER. 229 



Virtue the Friend of Man. 



Immortal never-failing friend of Man, 1040 

His guide to happiness on high. And see ! 

'T is come, the glorious morn ! the second birth 

Of heaven and earth ! awakening Nature hears 

The new-creating word, and starts to life, 

In every heightened form; from pain and death 1045 

For ever free. The great eternal scheme, 

Involving all, and in a perfect whole 

Uniting, as the prospect wider spreads, 

To reason's eye refin'd clears up apace. 

Ye vainly wise ! ye blind presumptuous! now, 1050 
Confounded in the dust, adore that Power, 
And Wisdom oft arraign'd : see now the cause, 
Why unassuming worth in secret liv'd, 
And dy'd, neglected: why the good Man's share 
In life was gall and bitterness of soul: 1055 

Why the lone widow and her orphans pin'd 
In starving solitude ; while luxury, 
In palaces, lay straining her low thought, 
To form unreal wants: why heaven-born truth, 
And moderation fair, wore the red marks 1060 

Of superstition's scourge : why licens'd pain, 
That cruel spoiler, that embosom 'd foe, 
Imbitters all our bliss. Ye good distrest! 
Ye noble few ! who here unbending stand 



230 WINTER 



Virtue the Friend of Man. 



Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up a while, 1065 
And what your bounded view, which only saw 
A little part, deem'd Evil is no more : 
The storms of Wintry Time will quickly pass, 
And one unbounded Spring encircle all. 






i 



HYMN. 



To the Supreme Being. 



1 HESE, as they change, Almighty Father ! these, 
Are but the varied God. The rolling year 
Is full of Thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring 
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love. 
Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm; 5 
Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles; 
And every sense, and every heart is joy. 
Then comes thy glory in the Summer-months, 
With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun 
Shoots full perfection thro' the swelling year: 10 

And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks; 
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, 
By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales. 
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd, 
And spreads a common feast for all that lives. 15 



232 A HYMN. 



To the Supreme Being. 



In Winter awful Thou ! with clouds and storms 
Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd, 
Majestic darkness! on the whirlwind's wing, 
Riding sublime, Thou bid'st the world adore, 
And humblest Nature with thy northern blast. 20 

Mysterious round! what skill, what force divine, 
Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train, 
Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art, 
Such beauty and beneficence combin'd; 
Shade, unperceiv'd, so softening into shade; 25 

And all so forming an harmonious whole; 
That, as they still succeed, they ravish still. 
But wandering oft, with brute unconscious gaze, 
Man marks not Thee; marks not the mighty hand, 
That, ever-busy, wheels the silent spheres; 30 

Works in the secret deep; shoots, steaming, thence 
The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring: 
Flings from the sun direct the flaming day; 
Feeds every creature; hurls the tempest forth; 
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, 35 
With transport touches all the springs of life. 

Nature, attend! join every living soul, 
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky, 
In adoration join; and, ardent, raise 
One general song! To Him, ye vocal gales, 40 






A HYMN. 233 



To the Supreme Being. 



Breathe soft; whose Spirit in your freshness breathes: 
Oh talk of Him in solitary glooms! 
"Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine 
Fills the brown shade with a religious awe. 
And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar, 45 

Who shake th' astonish'd world, lift high to heaven 
Th' impetuous song, and say from whom you rage. 
His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills; 
And let me catch it as I muse along. 
Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound; 50 

Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze 
Along the vale; and thou, majestic main, 
A secret world of wonders in thyself, 
Sound His stupendous praise; whose greater voice 
Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall. 55 

Soft-roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flow'rs, 
In mingled clouds to Him; whose sun exalts, 
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints. 
Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave, to Him; 
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart, 60 
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. 
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep 
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, 
Ye constellations, while your angels strike, 
Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. 65 



234 



A HYMN. 



To the Supreme Being. 



Great source of day ! best image here below 

Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide, 

From world to world, the vital ocean round; 

On Nature write with every beam His praise. 

The thunder rolls: be hush'd the prostrate world; 70 

While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. 

Bleat out afresh, ye hills: ye mossy rocks, 

Retain the sound: the broad responsive lowe, 

Ye valleys raise; for the great Shepherd reigns; 

And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come. 75 

Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundless song 
Bursts from the groves! and when the restless day, 
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep, 
Sweetest of birds ! sweet Philomela, charm 
The listening shades, and teach the night His praise. 80 
Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles, 
At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all, 
Crown the great hymn ! in swarming cities vast, 
Assembled men, to the deep organ join 
The long-resounding voice, oft-breaking clear, 85 
At solemn pauses, thro* the swelling bass; 
And, as each mingling flame increases each, 
In one united ardour rise to heaven. 
Or if you rather chuse the rural shade, 
And find a fane in every sacred grove; 90 



A HYMN. 235 



To the Supreme Bein^ 



There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, 
The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, 
Still sing the God of Seasons, as they roll. 

For me, when I forget the darling theme, 
Whether the blossom blows, the Summer ray 95 

Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams, 
Or Winter rises in the blackening east; 
Be my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more, 
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat. 

Should fate command me to the farthest verge 100 
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, 
Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun 
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam 
Flames on th' Atlantic isles; 't is nought to me: 
Since God is ever present, ever felt, 105 

In the void waste as in the city full ; 
And where He vital breathes there must be joy. 
When even at last the solemn hour shall come, 
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, 
I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers, 110 
Will rising wonders sing : I cannot go 
Where Universal Love not smiles around, 
Sustaining all yon orbs and all their sons; 
From seeming evil still educing good, 



236 A HYMN. 



To the Supreme Being. 



And better thence again, and better still, 115 

In infinite progression. But I lose 

Myself in Him, in Light ineffable! 

Come then, expressive silence, muse his praise. 



THE 



INDEX AND GLOSSARY 



The Numerals refer to the Book, the Figures to the Lines. 



V. 



Address to Amanda 

. — to Mr. Hammond 

to Philosophy ....... 

to the Sun . , 

to Mr. Onslow 

to the earl of Wilmington 

Advice to the fair-sex respecting hunting . 

•*- to young men respecting love 

Age, the manners of the present 

A nana, the pine-apple . 

Apennine mountains described iv. 

Anglers, instructions for i. 

Argyle, the duke of, his character .... iii. 

Autumn, description of iii. 

Augusta, the Roman name for London ... ii. 
Ausonia, a name given to Italy ii. 



/. 

480 

555 

1729 

94 

9 

18 

572 

980 

274 

6S5 

390 

381 

927 

27 

1409 

956 



23S INDEX AND GLOSSARY. 



B. 

b. I. 

Bees, their haunts described i. 505 

Behemoth, the hippopotamus, or river-horse . ii. 710 

Birds, the different species of them described . i. 595 
British Cassius, Algernon Sydney, an English 

admiral ii. 1527 

Boys deceived by a rainbow ...... i. 211 



C. 

Celadon and Amelia, their melancholy story . ii. 1161 

Clouds, their use i. 260 

Couple, a happy, in the married state, descrip- 
tion of . . . i. 1110. 1136 

Creator, the great, described, and where he dwells ii. 175 

D. 

Damon and Musidora, their story related . . ii. 1270 

Daughters of Britain described ii. 1580 

Deluge, the universal, described i. 308 

Diversions, rural, described iii. 1221 

Doddington, Mr. his country-seat described . iii. 653 

E. 

Elephant, description of the ii. 721 

Evanescent, hardly perceivable ii. 1781 

Evening, fine, description of a summer's . . ii. 1646 

F. 

Fair, the British, dissuaded from the exercise 

of the chase iii. 572 

— — , proper employments for iii. 579 

Fear described . i. 285 

Fly -fishing, rules for i. 405 



INDEX AND GLOSSARY. 239 

b. I. 

Fox-hunting, a description of iii. 471 

Friends, social, described 383 

Friths, a kind of fishing-nets iii. 921 

Frost, what it is, described iv. 715 

G. 

Ghosts, chiefly the dreams of fancy .... ii. 1680 

Grove, a solemn, described ii. 516 

H. 

Hare-hunting described iii. 401 

Hertford, the countess of, addressed .... i. 5 

Hay-making, description of ii. 352 

Harvest, a prospect of the fields, ready for . iii. 31 

Hymn to the sun ii. 104 

Husbandman, a, perishing in the snow . . iv. 283. 317 
Huntsmen, how they entertain themselves after 

the chase is over iii. 502 

I. 

Jealousy, the effects of, in youth ..... i. 1074 

Industry, the praises of iii. 72. 141 

Inscription to the countess of Hertford ... i. 5 

Invitation to walk in the fields early, in the spring i. 486 

L. 

Lark, the messenger of morn i. 587 

Lavinia, her affecting story iii. 177 

, Palemon's address to her .... iii. 265 

Leviathan, the whale iv. 1014 

Life, a country, recommended iii. 1233 

■ , the pleasures of iii. 1304 

, compared to the seasons iv. 1030 



240 



INDEX AND GLOSSARY. 



Life, the vanities of, their amount .... 

Lights, the northern, described iii. 

Love, a dissuasion from wild, juvenile, and irregular i 

. , genuine, proofs of 

, the matchless joys of 



M. 

Man, the lord of the creation . 
Marriage, the true pleasures of 
Melody, the voice of love . 
Mirth, drunken, description of 
Moon-light, description of . . 
Musiolora, secretly in love with Damon 
. , verses written by her to Damon 



b. 


/. 


iv. 


209 


iii. 


1107 


• i. 


980 


ii. 


1669 


L 


1154 


i. 


170 


i. 


1115 


i. 


611 


iii. 


539 


iii. 


1096 


ii. 


1276 


ii. 


1366 



N. . 
Nemesis, a heathen deity, the arbiter of rewards 

and punishments ii. 1034 

Night, described in the spring, after a shower i. 216 

Nile, the river, described ii. 805 

Nutting, description of . . iii. 617 

P. 

Palemon, his address to Lavinia iii. 265 

Passions, the, description of i. 280 

Philosophy, the praises of ii- 1729 

Philosophic life recommended, with the advantages 

ofit iii. 1325 

Ploughing , how performed i. 41 

Prison, the miseries of a iv. 362 

Prospect, description of a rural i. 491 

Pomona, the goddess of gardens ii. 663 



INDEX AND GLOSSARY. 



241 



R. 



Rainbow, fine description of a . . 

Reaping, description of 

Reflections on the motions of the planets 
in praise of industry 



Retirement, the proper time for 



in. 

ii. 
iii. 

ii. 



I. 

203 

153 

1695 

43 
1396 



S. 

Seasons, the annual succession of the ... i. 316 

Sharks, how they seize their prey .... ii. 1622 

Skene, the old name of Richmond .... ii. 1407 

Shepherd and his flock, pleasing description of a ii. 493 

Sheep-shearing, description of ii. 397 

Shipwreck, description of a ii. 1042 

Skaiting described iv. 769 

Snow, description of a man perishing in the . iv. 285 

Spirits, departed, their address to man ... ii. 544 

State, the present, the infancy of being . . ii. 1801 

Stanley, a young lady well known to the author - ii. 564 

Summer insects described ii. 241 

Swimming described and recommended . . ii. 1250. 1256 

Sun, the life of the creation ii. 103 

, the various effects of his beams on the 

works of nature ii. 161. 200 



T. 

Temple of Virtue, in Stow Gardens, described iii. 1018 

Tempt and Hemus, fields in Thessaly . . . ii/. 1315 

Thaw, a description of iv. 990 

Thunder, where it resides ii. 796 

Typhon and Ecnephia, winds known only between 

the tropics ii. 9S4 

R 



242 INDEX AND GLOSSARY. 

b. I 

Traveller, a benighted, finely described . . . iii. 1143 
Trout-fishing, the time and instruments for it, 

described i. 376 

V. 

Vanities of life, their amount iv. 209 

Vernon, admiral, his fate alluded to . . . . ii. 1041 

Virtue, the friend of man iv. 1040 

Virtues, description of the ii. 1604 

W. 

Walking early in the spring, recommended . . i. 100. 486 

, in the summer, proper time for . . ii. 1 378 

, in the autumn iii. 961 

Waterfall, description of a ii. 590 

Winter, in the frigid zone, described ... iv. 795 

, rural amusements in iv. 760. 789 

Woods, their appearance in autumn .... iii. 948 

Wool, the staple commodity of Great Britain . ii. 423 

Y. 

Youth, the effects of love in i. 983 

Z. 

Zone, the torrid, described ii. 632 

, the frigid, description of iv. 796 



615 n& 



FINIS. 



C.WH1TTINGHAM, printer, Dean Street, Fetter Lane. 





















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